Has a tree not more to teach
than its utilitarian calculus
of square foot by board inch,
its mute alphabet of cellulose
or thermal units, its truncate
history writ in annual rings?
Walk in trees' splendid home.
Do you not hear wind's call
soughing through the aeons?
Does the whispering overhead
not invite you to shed your
quotidian fears and concerns?
Does it not encourage you to
naked being and peaceful roam?
And, if you listen closely, you
may hear echoes of those
who've tallied, ever so briefly,
to commune and converse
with these, our stately elders.
Reverence arises spontaneously,
no need to scrape and bow but
step lightly between columns
of this, your future cathedral,
blessed in the fullness of time.
It is here Spirit has gathered,
preparing its greatest lesson,
as you re-discover the heartbeat
of the One (who was) hidden
from view, hidden from you.
She took refuge here, long ago,
when you showed yourself
barbarous and disrespectful.
Standing with the wooden-hearted,
She maintains a deep connection
to an elemental matrix. Do you not
sense Her presence whenever you
enter the forest? Comprehending
the language of carbon and fungi,
a tree's sweet-bearing heart-drum,
She relays crucial communiqués
to those with a complex cerebrum.
If danger approaches, or a human
devoid of roots encroaches, urgent
missives emit, root tip to root tip,
alerting the community, calling
an emergency palaver over the
interlaced mycelium criss-crossing
and underpinning the forest floor.
Otherwise, She sighs amid the ferns,
spreads Her cloak in deepest moss,
anticipating the joy of your return;
as moon journeys, mourns Her loss,
refuge(e) awaiting your re-discovery.
Will you seek Her presence, give Her
the pleasure of your company, turn
your attention, most subtle strategy,
to One beneath your restless feet?
She, the Mother before your mother,
pulse of Life in your thrumming veins,
expects your glad presence imminently.
If you allow, She will press you lovingly
to breast, share rhythms beating there,
heart-song for Her headstrong fledgling.
YOU ARE READING
Magpie Pearls
Poetry~ This poetic journey started when I began questioning why I write poetry. The assumption I'd come across pearls of wisdom to impart is quickly challenged by readers of "Magpie Pearls", leading me to explore truth in a broader sense. Is truth univer...
