The Hanging Garden Tree
on Wanačis-Hiɫthuuʔis
Trees are portals of living memory,
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.
Sherry, I really like your perspective here. Never thought of trees as portals before, but they hold so much, open to so much. When we enter the forest in a reverent manner, we cannot help but be changed!
ReplyDeleteThis is a poem of deep association and love with the green world; a unique way to look at these sentient beings, Sherry. Words like 'sacred' 'Sister Tree', 'my cathedral' feel so holy! I absolutely love how the poem closes.
ReplyDeleteA wonderfully passionate and ode to Mother Tree - I so admire your connection to the natural world - Jae
ReplyDeleteSome of the old trees, that have been around for centuries, have seen and know much more than we do... reverence is indeed the right word...what amazing creatures they are...and how poorly we treat them :(
ReplyDelete"Trees are portals of living memory,
ReplyDeletedoorway to mystery and secret dimensions,
above and below-ground." This entire poem is an invitation to enter the cathedral of the tree, especially if we haven't yet experienced it. And then halfway through, it becomes a poem of gratitude. O, yes, Thank you.
I used to call them Particular Trees. Something about them called my attention to meditation. Still will, if I make the time.
ReplyDeletePK
Stunning!!!! I love the line that reads like a breath, a prayer, a mantra, a sigh - "it is sacred here" and oh my all the tactile images and the finale ... "reverence" now that my friend is quite a door!
ReplyDeleteYes i can picture this "Your forest, My Cathedral" perhaps the forest is the real cathedral of the universe. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI love this poem, Sherry, especially the idea of trees as ‘portals of living memory, doorway to mystery and secret dimensions’. I agree that a ‘tree is a vault of stored history’ and if ‘you place your ear to a mossy trunk, you might hear a whisper of whalesong’. Trees are nature's cathedrals.
ReplyDeleteWe once planted more than a dozen tall leyland cypress trees in the backyard of a former home we lived in. It was a beautiful mini-forest. It was so peaceful and renewing to walk among them and just breathe in. Trees are magnificent.
ReplyDeleteSuch a humbling experience to read your poem, Sherry, and see and feel the world of these ancient trees, "portals of living memory." Transforming indeed, these cathedrals of peace, so beautifully rendered through your words.
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