I am a man that often gives himself
to illusion.
At times, it is easier to ignore
the tree,
and focus on the plastic artifices.
The truth of the tree,
its aging breaking bark,
can be too much for this heart.
However, the true poison
is fear.
One is meant to feel,
with every stretch and compression.
Blood must flow
to carry the minerals, twigs, and ashes of life.
If the blood runs cold, then it runs cold,
and one must shiver.
And if the blood burns hot, then it burns hot,
and one must sweat.
To be real
is to be body, mind, and spirit.
The whole of my being
cascades like leaves declaring
the wind’s undeniable existence.
The truth of the tree,
its aging breaking bark,
can be too much for this heart…
I feel that. The trees are so unvarnished and pure in their truth, which to me always feels like a wise and generous love.
Yes, we are meant to feel…everything. Yet many fear the shivering and burning and want only the ease and sweetness.
I so appreciate this honoring of and invitation to what it is to be real.
And that last stanza… just stunning.
Thank you for reading, Naila. It’s always wonderful to learn your thoughts about a poem, as you paint with your own words wonders atop the delights I impart.
Life is meant to be lived, right? I think it’s something for us all to remember.