| ~The Wise Old Tree~ Within the forest dark and deep, rooted firmly in the clay and sand, lives an immense gnarled wonder, a wise old tree... standing steep with voluminous trunk and many bands therein to tell of his years; of all he has seen and heard. With branch-arms outstretched to the sky, "I am the voice for the rest" he cried. So many don't consider us really alive, but we hurt and we cry just like you, inside. We fear the storms of nature and life; we rejoice and are reborn. Come listen to the forests' tales, as do the winged birds soaring overhead. Hear the magical wailing whistle of the wind as it tousles my headdress, see the dark dense storm clouds sailing past, tune into the coyotes cry. Come sit underneath me--feel my rootedness. Draw from me ancient knowledge amidst the whispers of the earth, and the supreme wisdom of the skies, I will tell you no lies, for I am, and you are, and we are worth… and I am just what you see, a wise old tree. Take that comfort with you when you have to go. Carry my strength back with you to the forest of cement, and lament no more! Remember me adorned in tiny spring leaf buds, think of me in autumns brilliant hues, and picture me with snow glistening atop my arms outstretched to you when feeling cold and alone. Envision me with face in full dress of green inside of summers heat providing shelter from what can be a merciless sun. I will be one with you, I am natures embrace.. I am all seasons, I am season less, I am saving grace; a fortress solid and strong who, like you, was indeed Once also a sapling, before that a seed. © Sarah Gallant, 2003 |