Liberat.es
Ana was carved into her skin
I could never describe this tree,
the one that invited me to spend
the moment of the solstice at
her base, under the tendrils and
the moss; clearly above her
roots, with the mycelium living
within, speaking to all of her
brothers and sisters around us. Words
will fail to capture the beauty
of this being. She would laugh
at my attempt to draw her (Should
I try). Besides, having something
to say about what she looks like is
hardly the point. No, this
invitation is one about a moment.
We are here together to say goodbye
to darkness and hello to light. She
wanted company, as did I. We
are in this together. A winter’s
day is one in which we find warmth
in all of God’s beings. It’s one
in which the spirit of a tree
can speak to that of a sapien,
whispering, “I am because you are.”
The mulch at her feet will feed
her. The dampness proving that
her thirst is quenched. For this
moment, there is no breeze. I feel
love. For her, myself, you, and
all of the sentient matter that
makes up this swirling kosmos.
Be and let be. Together we tangle
our hearts together.
Happy Solstice, dear Tree.