The Hanging Garden Tree
on the Tall Tree Trail, Meares Island
on the Tall Tree Trail, Meares Island
doorway to mystery and secret dimensions,
above and below-ground.
A tree is a vault of stored history,
songs and dances of the old ones,
forever remembered.
They have recorded every lonely wolf howl,
caw of Raven, piercing cry of Eagle.
If you place your ear to a mossy trunk,
you might hear a whisper of whalesong;
lie down and listen under the earth,
to the pulse of life traveling
along the roots
across the forest floor.
It is sacred, here.
We enter their world as visitors.
We listen.
In deep, deep peace,
our heart rate slows.
We breathe,
and are renewed.
I place my hand on your trunk,
Sister Tree,
in wonder,
in connection,
in solidarity,
in gratitude,
with deep respect
and admiration.
Your forest, my cathedral,
I enter humbly, as a guest.
I come away
transformed,
other-worldly,
kin.
The word I am looking for, here,
I suppose, is reverence.
I borrowed the phrase "trees are portals" from advertising about an event held in Stanley Park, Vancouver, in 2016 by the Aeriosa and Spakwus Slulem Eagle Song Dancers. Their art card stated "Old growth trees in Stanley Park are living portals. Witnesses of ancient Coast Salish celebrations and ceremonies, they are the connectors, the ones who will remember today's songs and dances when we too are gone." What a beautiful thing to think about. Befriend a tree, kids.......it will long remember you.
shared with the open link at earthweal
Trees are indeed portals in this world and the dreamscape. I have a deep rooted connection to certain trees.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful tree. I can see how it inspired your poem. I completely agree with you - trees are portals. Your poem expresses the concept beautifully. Suzanne of Mapping Uncertainty
ReplyDeleteI’ve always thought of woods and forests as cathedrals, Sherry, and now I see trees as portals! I love how you describe a tree as:
ReplyDelete‘…a vault of stored history,
songs and dances of the old ones,
forever remembered.’
I must listen to them more.
A read that is soaked in reverence for truly holy spaces, Sherry. If forests are carbon sinks, every breath we share with every breathing thing is housed in their canopies. I'll put this one in my hymnal.
ReplyDeleteFrom the photo of the big tree at the top until the last word of your comment, consider me enthralled. I googled the place where the tree is and am adding the place to my bucket list. Thousand year old cedars. I want to be long-remembered by one.
ReplyDeleteJadeLi, people come from around the world to see our forests. Sadly, on Vancouver Island, we only have TWO OR THREE PERCENT left of old growth and they are STILL LOGGING IT. It is incomprehensible to me.
ReplyDelete"It is sacred, here." So true. They are godly beings. I love how you've used the word "cathedral" in the poem. Beautiful, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteTrees are portals, connecting us with deep time, rooting us within the earth to which we belong. I am so sad at how we've lost our way. Keep writing Sherry!
ReplyDeleteThere's something mysterious about those west coast trees, Sherry, beautifully captured in your poem...JIM
ReplyDeleteWe can never forget to have reverence. You, Sherry, are one of the most reverent people I know!
ReplyDeleteI like your tale of the foest, makes me want to visit. I particularly like the lines "It is sacred, here.
ReplyDeleteWe enter their world as visitors.
We . . . "
Like the imaging poets know but most won't day, "There is no such place."
..
I love the lines, "Your forest, my cathedral,/I enter humbly, as a guest." Yes, a spiritual connection is found in the woods.
ReplyDelete