What if you were the very last tree?
The only one left
To keep our secrets,
Hear our laments,
Grieve our sorrows,
Would we stop the madness?
See wonder through new eyes?
Hold sacred vigils
Here at my parents’ graves?
Could a small child reach out and touch,
Feel the rivulet roughness of your bark?
Would a sparrow find rest,
Permission to nest?
Or, would barbed wire shroud your elegance,
Armed guards and “Keep Out” signs?
Just in case,
I need to confide.
I rely on you
To cradle holy ground,
Fidelity not even my dog would understand.
How many times I should have said those words but didn’t!
I loved them, too, you know,
My dad, my mom.
Weren’t wealthy or worldly
Yet affluence flourished
On our dead-end back street,
Endowments from a different realm where
Plainsong plucked acoustic souls
Who rocked in woodland studios.
Maple, Ash, Oak, Aspen-
Earth in fluidity.
You live to protect Her.
Would die to protect Her.
Yet you’d take not one life to avenge Her demise.
(Anthem of a true patriot.)
And oh, that I could
Sway with the breeze regardless of tempo,
Reverberate rhythm regardless of rhyme,
Surrender to splendor,
Relinquish my need,
Sometimes I speak
But the right words don’t come.
You’ve never needed to be right.
Your knotted scars and tangled trust-
Pure Bodhi speak.
Arms always reaching,
Limbs touching limbs in solidarity-
And somewhere deep,
In the womb of perpetual waking,
Arrogance dissolves in your rich, moist darkness.
Rooted dreams spiral their longing,
Tangled and hugged and calmed
In your fathomless underground,
(In Aramaic (the language that Jesus spoke) the word "Truth" is Sherara, which means: "That which liberates and opens possibilites; that which is strong and vigorous and that which acts in keeping with universal harmony". ) Neil D. Klotz