Under the Tree
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under the tree
where the dying wolf sleeps
under the tree
is the path you seek

a broken door
the seeds that she’s sown
a broken door
room of glass and stone

from the womb
world on its knees
from the womb
she tries to flee

blood runs thick
in the morning
blood runs thick
when birds are soaring

breaking the dawn
she sings the tune
breaking the dawn
what’s left of the moon

under the tree
she waits with her child
under the tree
in the wuthering wild

- Under the Tree, page 3 of The Wuthering Wilds by Hermann Van Der Kolk.

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