A pupil of trees
A pupil of trees
.original writing
and photos
.
by @d-pend
A pupil of trees
What do you reach for—unspeaking—
with such cold certainty
that we are stirred to humanize your scarred limbs,
if only in a feverish attempt
to imagine what fervent prize
could be worth such continued martyrdom?
What is said in mottled contours
painted across your body
in the display of day turned night,
that you allow to be canvassed upon you:
time on time anew?
What invisible dances do you do
—or silent chants intone—
over long centuries to celebrate
the procession of elegant equinoxes
and mourn your wizened dead?
What do you tell your children
in the perilous transition
from warm and waiting budlet
to microcosmic gnarl?
And will you guide me likewise
who strolls among the branches—
with wordless, whirling wisdom
that quiets queries all?
Writing and photos
by @d-pend
12/4/18
.photos taken
with iPhone 8+
to trees...
A sacred dance
Catch the breeze
Alive in archaic prance
Roots move in pedestrial ease
To the light of appeasing circumstance
Pele
Beautiful, thank you @mineopoly 🙏
Have a great night!
@d-pend,
Daniel, I have just read your most recent 4-5 poems and I had an insight. I don't think there is any chance whatsoever that I am wrong.
You are a Druid.
This poem was the proof in the pudding. :-)
Nice write.
Quill
Beautiful tribute to trees and to weathered wisdom and silences.
I, too, am fascinated about trees. My first attempt at a poem here in Steemit, was from a tree's perspective. It was a wonderful exercise to try to replicate the voice of an ancient tree that has witnessed generation come and go, individual lives flourish and wither, and its own vision change as it grew.
Trees have been humanized in many myths and legends (some popular TV shows have some of those wise talking trees featured as important characters). We associate their longevity with wisdom because we assume that only time can make us wise. Wisdom and growth come at a price and we also assume that a wise soul carries scars. Trees (even those whose trunks are smooth) are the personification of a scared life.
Your trees speak without words. Their branches’ desperate reaching and twisting seem to speak of self-inflicted punishment. If reaching for illumination is the source of those scars, then we can understand why it is worth the while.
Trees may be the best recorders of time, since not only do they show it in their barks, but also in their trunks once they are cut down. We can tell the age of a tree by the wood growth rings. Where are our rings?
These lines and the image of the dead tree piled up in front of living ones left quite an impression.
My mother is one of those who not only think plants are alive and feel just like us. She actually talks to them. She begs the rose to bloom, she asks oregano permission to cut a branch, and she gives the soursop words of encouragement when she struggles to give healthy fruits. So, these lines really make the trees come alive and look as intriguing and fascinating as they can be venerable.
The anguish of a parent who tries to protect their children is magnified before the prospect of silence and immobility. How would we do if we wanted to protect our children but we were fixed and muted? What major evolution had to take place to develop forms of communication that circumvent those limitations?
Anyone who has been lost in a forest knows that trees do have ways of guiding or misguiding (if we can’t understand their language). Like children, and animals, trees have their ways of elating, warning, and auguring. We just need to be observant.
Your wonderful poem leads us to remember that, as beings of this world, we must recover and clothe ourselves with the majestic blanket of tree values: humility, solidarity, support and wisdom rather than knowledge. We must never lose the ability to learn from everything around us: "When the pupil is ready, the master appears". The most important thing is the attitude and willingness to learn, to sharpen one's sensitivity, to ask the pertinent questions and to be astonished at apparent pettiness. In everyday life there are so many answers that go unnoticed, so many whispers, so many laments, so many truths.
Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3
Dear @d-pend sir!
The way the river does not drink water, the tree does not eat its fruit; in the same way, the life of gentle people is only for philanthropy. In fact, the trees give us shade and fruits and fresh air, while tolerating the cold winter rain caused by winter heat. The tree gives us lesson of tolerance and benevolence.
Smart photography of woodland with iPhone 8+
Very beautifully written my friend. And good photos too. Thanks so much for sharing @d-pend
Thanks @enjoywithtroy :-) Have a nice day my friend.
these are absolutely beautiful picture, thank you for this post
Thanks @emkh, glad you enjoyed it.
Awesome words to go with these beautiful trees reaching for the heavens.
Thanks bud. Autumn's a magical time :-)
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