when my bones become brittle
and my voice is just a whisper
and the world continues to turn
but I, I am still-
I will remember the way the sun shone through the naked treetops
and the silence of the forest trails by the lake
yet,
if even then I feel dissolved
I will remember the broken tree
with an elegant bow
that stood only with the support of the surrounding dead wood
its back arched towards the sky in a humble slope
and I will assume it is still there…

-rmc

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