Into the ruined twists of bark, Where time and weather left its mark, Through battering winds and torrid heat Each day a measure of defeat, The children whisper of their pain Their secrets spilled, but not in vain. For every one that fills the tree, That coils tight and can’t break free. Becomes a song of vindication. Of absolution, liberation. Upon the wind that shakes its leaves The pattering raindrops when it grieves. That should you hear while on your travels, Reveals the truth when Juniper unravels.
