To Dream awake
To give more than I take
To speak truth into everything I create
To abstract – To freeflow
To translate what only tree roots know
To talk with my hands
To speak deep like the drum
To make Woodwordz outlive the seeds
Of the trees they grew from
To Speak bold and fluent wood
So my children’s children will know where I stood
Woodwordz
I chanced upon a once proud tree
All sliced and slaughtered on the shelf
At Southern Lumber Company
I heard its voice and found myself
Could I fulfill its destiny
To make its truth outlive its seeds
Would I dare accept its plea
To chronicle the history
Of sacred songs of birds of peace
That nested deep within its reach
Of sons of slaves whose eyes reflect
The memory of noose on neck
Of troubled waters left to wade
From hell to hope to brighter days.
Once proud tree – reached out to me
To help it stand strong and bold again
Now I speak Woodwordz!
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