I live in this wretched, yet blessed tree.

From it’s gnarly clutches I will never be free.

Though this mighty Yew is rooted in pain,

Spirituality has rinsed my suffering with gentle rain.

Indeed, my safe perch of sobriety is precarious,

Yet, I love where I am -please don’t think it hilarious.

Each day I must strive to stay safe in Yew branches,

Lest the looming specter of relapse makes successful advances

The Taproot of Shame never quite withers.

But my spiritual shift stunts it -like mighty scissors.

My dark past is now my most valued treasure.

Sharing it, and the Way Out, is more than a pleasure.

So, you see.

I’m inextricably linked with this treacherous tree.

Poor me?


No. Thanks to this toxic Yew, I’m a good human being.

Blessed to help tend the watch fires of love that keep us all seeing…..

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