Heartwood

He was an oak,
With deep roots,
And mighty branches.
Everyone looked at him
to bear their weight.
The pressure causing fissures,
excavating his trunk.
Cavities opened,
exposing his heartwood.
They took advantage of his tenderness beneath the bark
Eating away at him
Hollowing him out and making a home in the shell of this tree
Sap seeping out of him like tears

He feels weak, unstable.
Like the next gust of wind will fell him.
But despite the damage to his core,
He still stands tall,
Stoic.
Resilient.
I admire him.
Not for being untouched by pain,
But for standing tall
When no one sees the storm inside.