I have been fire 
Blazing at life

I have been metal

I have been anvil
Stalwart and staid

I have been hammer

What now remains
What more to be

When then will I feel

Fissures apparent 
Brittle, breaking

Blacksmith have mercy
Be kind 

More Kind, More Kind

Mocking bird
Were I your tree
A conscience surely would find thee
You’d fly too far
And feel the sting
Reflecting on the soothe I bring

My honest leaves
With perfect shimmer
Pray your feathers grow none dimmer
Striped wing belied
By your lone song
You’ve held no hope here all along

Not With Hatchets

I am your oak tree
As I stand beside your knee
Will you speak to me
Not with hatchets in your eyes
But with birds’ nests on your mind 
And honeybees so kind
Care for my green arms
Feel my shade protect from harm