"New Life on a Pile of Death"

I penned the following poem while on a personal prayer retreat a few years back. Sitting in the woods in soul-cleansing silence and solitude, struggling with my soul's addiction to sound, my eyes rested on a fallen, dead tree. Even though the tree had been dead for a good while now, what struck me about this particular sight was that there were more than twenty little pine trees growing on top of it. Immediately, the phrase "New Life on a Pile of Death" popped into my mind, and from that flowed what I've included below.

One tree falls, leaving death and a mound of dirt
New life springs forth in numbers greater than one
Once a mighty growth, now a rotting heap
Yet many children grow upon the signs of death

I sit by the glow of the burning parent
The children join in, rejoicing in new possibilities
Celebration, together, while death gives way to joy
Alone, no, never alone, for with me is a chorus of life

I die out here, a painful death
Not a death of body but of soul
Soul attachments, false calls, junk food of noise
Painful death, quick blade, forever freedom

You see me dying, I feel the living
Your voice does not hold my truth
My identity is heard upon the wind
Of the Spirit, the Breath of God