The Lord of the Forest

The forest breathes in dark hymns—

lichen-lunged, its roots strangle the sky

You, keepers of the hollowed gloom,

with bark for skin and marrow of rot,

thought your throne of thorns unshakable.

But I remember the names you swallowed:

my sister’s laughter, buried in your moss;

my  ancestor’s bones, grafted into your oaks. 

You wore the night like a coronet,

sang lullabies of suffocation—

No dawn shall trespass here.

Yet I learned your language

the groan of branches plotting,

the venom in your ivy’s whisper.

Tonight, I carve my path with teeth of flint

Your guardians rise—shadows with antlered skulls,

eyes like choked-out stars—

but I am armed with the rage of orchards razed,

the slow poison of your own deceit

I feed your brambles to my fire,

watch your curses curl to smoke.

I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance

—the match hisses—

and furious anger

—the canopy cracks—

those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers

You thought us fools for cradling saplings

in hands calloused by your spite

But roots remember.

Acorns plot.

Every stripped branch a tally mark

in the ledger of your atrophy.

Now your grove screams.

The flame is a tongue that licks your altars clean,

unravels your tapestries of spider-silk law.

And when I lay my vengeance upon you…

Your bark blisters. Your throne collapses.

The earth, starved for light, drinks the blaze.

You shall know I am the Lord—

not of your shriveled, sunless pantheon,

but the god who walked into your mouth of thorns

and returned, teeth stained with embers.

The lord of unbroken seeds.

The keeper of the unyielding sprout

that splits your stones,

and laughs

You shall know I am the only Lord. . . . Content Warning: This poem is not about religion—it simply uses religious references for thematic effect. Also for the drama... *shrugs*