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Trees

You cradled my childlike mind,
Cupping it softly in your knowing hands

You brush away doubt, tucking long
blonde curls behind attentive ears.

I need to hear a loving oath,
Tell me again how the world can be?

Kind eyes,

I remembered how during the dark nights,
We would refuge in the woods,

The clear night sky fell behind us chasing
Our shadows

Sickening distress refused to shift
Churning like butter

The stars twinkled as if they knew, their
Blinking eyes guided us

This journey is unknown, the walk is silenced
And filled with storms

I needed now to walk alone but the robin
Flew alongside me

My compass shattered its fragile glass
Shards of glass cut into my feet,
Reminding me that I am alive

My hands are cold

There is nothing here only an empty space
In this dense forest,
But the trees don’t lie

They are knowing wise old men,
Rooted to the earth’s underworld
Where the secrets lie.

They whisper the secrets in the cool breeze
With their music leaves

If you listen be still, they will tell you
About love, earth and space

Maybe now I can ask them about my voyage
In this strange place?

Why am I here old man?
Why am I here….?


Deirdre Shortt


The Irish Association of Humanistic
& Integrative Psychotherapy (IAHIP) CLG.

Cumann na hÉireann um Shíciteiripe Dhaonnachaíoch agus Chomhtháiteach


9.00am - 5.30pm Mon - Fri
+353 (0) 1 284 1665

email: admin@iahip.org


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