Like an old tree,
I survived storm and drought,
the clipping and bending
and breaking
of my boughs.
I learned to stand steady
as winds of change
howled through my limbs;
thrust my roots down deep,
braced myself against
the slipping sands
under my feet.
Like an old tree,
I have endured,
weary of my labours,
branches drooping,
bark chipped and pocked,
the foreboding
of an early frost
nipping at my toes.
I send messages
of encouragement
to young sprouts
popping up,
jostling me,
their growth encroaching
on my space,
as has been the grand design
through all of time.
They will carry my legacy,
my teachings, my dreams,
into tomorrow,
replacing my songs
with their own,
spreading their arms wide,
expanding in the sun,
all the while
time
is bending me
slowly
into the earth.
I survived storm and drought,
the clipping and bending
and breaking
of my boughs.
I learned to stand steady
as winds of change
howled through my limbs;
thrust my roots down deep,
braced myself against
the slipping sands
under my feet.
Like an old tree,
I have endured,
weary of my labours,
branches drooping,
bark chipped and pocked,
the foreboding
of an early frost
nipping at my toes.
I send messages
of encouragement
to young sprouts
popping up,
jostling me,
their growth encroaching
on my space,
as has been the grand design
through all of time.
They will carry my legacy,
my teachings, my dreams,
into tomorrow,
replacing my songs
with their own,
spreading their arms wide,
expanding in the sun,
all the while
time
is bending me
slowly
into the earth.
For Sumana’s prompt at Midweek Motif, Poets United: What do I
think of myself? I think: I am a tired old tree. I think: I have risen above my raising, yet been less than what I might have been.
And shared with the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads.
And shared with the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads.
Wow Sherry, a great poem!!!
ReplyDeleteLove the likeness to an old tree... I think we are all a bit like trees... but trees are better.
ReplyDeleteI like your strength and wisdom as the tree - this existence is rooted in survival and its power. And this is the kind which encourages the many voices abound and supports the growth of new ones. A truly inspirational write. It's good to read and cherish your words again, Sherry. :-)
ReplyDelete-HA
This poem filled me with smiles...
ReplyDeleteI see all that gentle goodness in you, the vastness of your giving nature, the strength with which you support those who follow in your step, your fairness of spirit--I love how you love trees and wolves and people and anythings that needs love.
Some days, I rather not be grouped under the human label. Then, I read something like this, and I feel the urge to tell the world, "See? I'm human just like her."
Wow Sherry. You know how I love trees especially old ones. I wish we humans could be more like the trees. This is a wonderful poem.
ReplyDeleteI love this entire poem, but those last lines are so wonderful Sherry! I love the picture of you it is gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteI am smiling. Thank you, friends, for your kind words. And Magaly - I love moments when we can be glad we are human - thank you so much!
ReplyDeleteA phenomenal extended simile, Sherry! You epitomize an old tree so splendely!
ReplyDeleteHow important it is to understand the circle of life and to be happy that we are part of it.
ReplyDeleteI have risen above my raising, yet been less than what I might have been... I will think deep on those thoughts Sherry... a sobering, contemplative poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is just so beautiful and heart warming and absolutely true!
ReplyDeleteThe old tree is a wonderful way to describe a long life. I wish I were as noble as your tree, or had lived as good a life towards my body as my dad (only his body, not mine--I have scars from him that you can see and also those only I can feel).
ReplyDelete..
There is a feeling of contentment acceptance and happiness about your reaching the conclusive stage of your life..I think you are one of the lucky ones.
ReplyDeleteThey will carry my legacy,
ReplyDeletemy teachings, my dreams,
into tomorrow...
I believe this is true, Sherry. And I love the picture of you beneath the tree. Your roots extend all the way to Africa, dear friend.
I am smiling. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteA beautiful feast - yes I know
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful analogy. As I liken life to a rock tumbling down river, being honed and smoothened by time, you've used the tree withstanding storms yet standing strong (if among young sprouts!) I love it.
ReplyDeleteA tree fits you perfectly. I like the young sprouts surrounding and love the nurture you give and the total usefulness and gifting of your life, May this old tree take a long long time to bend. We need you to continue to ground the landscape and sing of interconnectedness and wolves.
ReplyDeleteYou are a very beautiful tree, so full of life with strong roots. Never stop growing my friend.
ReplyDeleteWow I felt the strength and beauty of this tree withstanding the storms of life
ReplyDeleteand I love the encouragement to young sprouts That's something I enjoy myself Keep on shining
"I learned to stand steady"...And only the person concerned knows what this learning process means. I soooo love the attitude of this old tree, catering happiness and goodwill to everyone.
ReplyDeleteoh loved the old tree...the true spirit....who would not love the shade of such a tree <3
ReplyDeleteI wasn't able to write for this prompt, but so glad I stopped by to read your poem. It's beautiful, as are you. You remind me of our old peach tree. Each year, we think it won't blossom, yet it does. And you, my dear, are still blossoming though the limbs are bending, like mine.
ReplyDeleteThe tree metaphor carries beautifully throughout. Love this Sherry!
ReplyDeleteLuv your tree analogy; its strength and forbearance. Happiest with your penultimate verse of inspiration
ReplyDelete"I send messages
of encouragement
to young sprouts"
Sherry thank you for dropping by my blog to read mine
much love...
A wonderful old tree, Sherry!
ReplyDelete