Oak (Poem)

Such a magnificent Oak.

A majestic length of timber, shading my phone screen.
A bodiless voice echoing in the night.
Its ranks glimmering with wonders unseen,
A reminder that I’m crazy, but alright.

A wonderful figment is he,
Unlike the mosquito-infested ranks of this tree.
I think it’s time to cut down the Oak.

I tell myself I don’t need him anymore,
I tell myself there’s shade on the porch.
I need to go out and see what life has in store,
Not sketch and daydream in this mulch.

A wonderful annoyance is he,
Like the peeling old bark of this tree.
Where’s my axe? I no longer need Oak.

Oak’s just a voice in my head,
This tree, just winter’s firewood.
I need not remind myself of the dead.
I need not linger in my childhood.

A solemn whisper of a happy life is he,
Something I’ll never find under this goddamn tree.
One quick glance, then I’m chopping down this Oak.

Oak is just a lie,
Oak is just a plant.
Oak won’t give me life,
Oak can only give rest.

It’s time to stop imagining he’s here,
Time to stop cowering in fear.
He’s dead, just like this stupid Oak.

Dead, just like this stupid Oak…

I never deserved the comfort of Oak.
I never deserved the shade of this tree.
I’ve killed them both, tree and Oak,
And now I’ll never be free.

Oak will understand.
He’ll comfort me, he’ll take my hand.
I need to get back to Oak.

My keys in hand, I know where to go.
We always had date nights there.
People will miss me, I know;
But Oak will welcome me there.

The canyon is deep.
Forever I’ll sleep.
It’s time to avenge my Oak.

Life without Oak isn’t a life at all.
My time dawdling in the shade was spent well.
Soon it’ll be like I wasn’t there at all;
Just the scars the Oak took in my spell.

My end is near,
But I have no fear.
It’s time to once more see Oak.

Such a magnificent Oak, dead like my stupid Oak.