The heart of my self

There is a tree that has grown up
In the heart of my self
That has weathered a thousand storms,
And looks set to weather another thousand
Before it falls.

Maybe it will not fall;
Maybe when the life has left it
The dead trunk will still stand there
Defying elements, refusing to rot,
Refusing to bend back down into the earth.

It has deep roots this tree of mine:
Sunk deep in the compost of extraordinary love
That a father and mother and sister and brother gave it,
And the storms that tried to humble it foolishly brought with them rain.

Rain nurtures, thunder calls forth exaltation,
Lightning makes a dazzling silhouette,
Wind gives exercise to its supple strength,
And after the storms die back
Sunshine warms the heart of its trunk.

No doubt it will be gone, after a while.