Yes, those that survive are still in mourning,
I can feel it in my limbs,
as they seem to stand more silent than before,
each keeping vigil until their time
for their fallen friends.
The horror it must have been, the bending,
the waiting, the earth giving way under foot,
first light...
We will never be the same, not the poplar,
the spruce, or the pine, nor those of us
who find our solace in these Appalachian woods.
The memory holds from root to crown,
I touch the trees, the forest grieves
with hands held high.