…
We are born of ash and sigh
-lence, quiet spirits caved
in rain and song,
dark skeletal tree limbs
unsure of their own thin origins;
reaching for sky.
We count our rings, the things
that tell us who we are and
how old and why
we might possibly wish
for something more,
something radiating under
all this troubled skin.
You may find us rooted, or
washed away by our own salt.
You may find our syllables
too short,
too long,
unsung,
but that’s not our fault.
..
Wordled.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Gorgeously, gorgeously written….just so beautiful, De.
I actually think you should take out “lence” on the second line and just say: “We are born of ash and sigh, quiet spirits caved …” I like the rhyme better that way.
This is beautiful, De.
I love the idea of a rooted door. A doorway into the tree from underground … like the whomping willow.
There is a confidence and sense of comfort in this poem – that it’s ok to tell our story how and when we wish
This was gorgeous.
Thanks so much, gang.