When I was young, I was a bud
tossed by every storm.
I felt my not-enough-ness,
tried to be like all the rest,
who seemed
so magnificently blessed.
Our journeys, though,
we are forced to make
as ourselves,
which rubs off all the artifice,
washing it away with tears
through the questing years.
I grew myself a tree
through the centre part of me,
to keep me strong
when winds blew hard.
My arms needed to be strong,
to support four saplings
as they tossed and turned.
It saved me,
was the best thing
that I learned.
In old age,
my tree is weary.
There is nothing artificial
in my branches, bent and bare.
What's left is a battered trunk,
and the heart still beating warmly,
joyously,
there.
I took the idea of being as authentic as a tree from Susan's comment at Poets United, where she said she wished she was as authentic as a tree. (You are, my friend!)
for Susan's Midweek Motif: Authenticity.
Also sharing it with Rajani's prompt: Old
I love you and your journey to authenticity. I believe in this tree, freed of artifice, and grown with wisdom through the years. Ah! She can now look back in wonder at the journey and realize how beautiful she is wearing the scars of the journey.
ReplyDeleteWhat a dastardly delightful metaphor. I feel very much like you at this stage of authentic me
ReplyDeleteHappy Wednesday, thanks gor dropping by to read mine
Much🌻love
Nicely written, good sense. I liked the last full verse best, also getting old here. Growing up like a tree, what word simile would my motorcycle show?
ReplyDelete..
Sherry,
ReplyDeleteI loved how your related life to the experiences of the tree, especially as in older age with the bent, bare and battered branches and trunk...I relate to this very much..I love trees and the significance they offer..
This is beyond beautiful, Sherry!❤️ I love how you share your experiences in life with us in this poem.
ReplyDeleteYou are a strong tree with deep roots. You have grown through the seasons and you have nurtured your saplings with a love. I can see a heart carved in the bark the life force of the tree.
ReplyDeleteMay it continue to grow.
wow what a beautiful poem You are a beautiful strong tree. I so love
ReplyDelete"I grew myself a tree
through the centre part of me,"
and
My arms needed to be strong,
to support four saplings
as they tossed and turned.
Brilliant
Supporting 4 saplings is no mean feat
ReplyDeleteTime for the hardy old tree to have the luxury of supporting herself
I can see the stormy days, the tree standing its ground, the hard journey, the saplings, the bark of wisdom and a glowing heart in them all. Love every word.
ReplyDeleteThank you, my friends, for reading and for your lovely comments! They make me smile.
ReplyDeleteI grew myself a tree
ReplyDeletethrough the centre part of me - loved that thought. The authenticity (yes, Susan) and the benevolence and wisdom of a tree - that is something to strive for, indeed! Thanks for linking with Poetry Tuesday, Sherry!
I love trees, and love this poem. (There are a few trees amongst the writings to this prompt! They must be very recognisable symbols of authenticity.)
ReplyDeleteAs someone who loves trees, I’ve enjoyed all the tree poems posted on this midweek’s motif. I love that you wrote from the point of view of a tree, Sherry, and we went on its life journey, from bud to old age. May I keep these lines as a mantra, please?
ReplyDelete'I grew myself a tree
through the centre part of me,
to keep me strong'.
You certainly may. Those strong trunks within come in handy along the way.
ReplyDeleteWhat's inside is the authentic part. love this.
ReplyDeleteOutstanding! "I grew myself a tree" - What could be more honest?
ReplyDeleteBeing as authentic as a tree as Susan's comments make both takes alive and living. It is a great direction to take to make it caring and so creating compatibility and perhaps love as well. Wonderful take Sherry!
ReplyDeleteHank
There is nothing at all in-authentic about you! You are the kind of person where what you see is what you get. No hidden agenda. I enjoyed this poem Sherry.
ReplyDelete