The Tree Stood in the Wood
meditation on "Dream of the Rood"
The tree stood in the wood
but no one saw there were so
many trees each a cross without
a form a form without a cross
leaves and branches making
their own story
So day goes night comes
the dark surround forms lose shape
hours go their way so night passes
mid-night comes the darkest hour
crossing a time divide weight of sorrow
perhaps a longing for a new
tomorrow midnight moves
making room for the march of morning
Grief I look for you
but you are gone the dream too
of the rood road way truth and light
drenched in the slow blood
of on-coming day along
a vein of hands nailed
to an ancient rite
If the tree speaks may it call
to me in Your name make me new
in the new dawn's day
Cordelia Hanemann is writer and artist in Raleigh, NC. She has published in journals: Atlanta Review, Southwestern Review, and Laurel Review; anthologies, The Poet Magazine’s Friends and Friendship, Heron Clan and Kakalakand in a chapbook. Her poems have won awards and been nominated for prizes. Recently the featured poet for Negative Capability Press and The Alexandria Quarterly, she is now working on a first novel, about her roots in Cajun Louisiana.
Amethyst Review 