Last Word
I came across a twisted oak
Surprising me with what it spoke:
I never ask why I'm an oak.
Or wonder why my limbs are broke.
I make the best of what's for me
while giving thanks that I'm a tree.
I could not bear his words of languish.
That tree has no idea of anguish.
"You don't know all that I've lost."
But I know of winter's frost.
"You live the life your seed projected."
No life is ever as expected.
"How'd you make peace with what is now?"
From the wind I learned to bow.
I hope that you will find your peace.
Now my words to you will cease.
Surprising me with what it spoke:
I never ask why I'm an oak.
Or wonder why my limbs are broke.
I make the best of what's for me
while giving thanks that I'm a tree.
I could not bear his words of languish.
That tree has no idea of anguish.
"You don't know all that I've lost."
But I know of winter's frost.
"You live the life your seed projected."
No life is ever as expected.
"How'd you make peace with what is now?"
From the wind I learned to bow.
I hope that you will find your peace.
Now my words to you will cease.
This poem is copyright (©) Mona Voelkel 2026
About the Writer
Mona Voelkel
Before Mona Voelkel was a full-time writer, she was a reading specialist in New York and is honored to be included in The Dirigible Balloon. She is the author of two picture books, Stanley and the Wild Words and the Moonbeam Award-winning, Moon Choo-Choo. Her poetry has also appeared in Little Thoughts Press and The Milford Journal.
