This is another of my poems for the Halloween Bespeak event, which i was unable to finish in time! It’s another one which looks to adapt a myth and make it a little topical, perhaps. The concept was a melding of the idea of faces in trees, and the way they age and seem almost human and frightening, especially in the nighttime, and the tendency to anthropomorphise things. It’s an adaptation of an old norse legend, the world tree, which supports all of the worlds, and therefore life. Jormangandr is the world serpent, who at Ragnarok will destroy the world, but until then is trapped in a circle eating its own tail.
In the roots of the world tree there are faces
Contorted and tired.
Or screaming, smiling,
In the face of the world tree there are words unspoken.
That can never be said,
Or the world would
The branches, we know.
The extension of our sorrow.
The roots are everything.
They begat all.
They don’t know what we made of them,
In the sunlight that they sought.
Maybe there’s a callus root,
Or a destruction root,
Or one that hates us all.
Roots could then absolve our sins,
Terrible though they are.
The faces in the world tree watch,
As the world becomes fire.