Vol 13, Num 10 :: 2014.05.16 — 2014.05.29
I discovered this beautiful new tree
and I was — of all things — afraid.
With all other things,
with fear and pride,
I would take them
and uproot them
and prune them
and graft them
and guard them fiercely
against the Sun
and the Rain
I love to feel your good shade.
I love to watch you grow well.
A branch falls and all you see:
is beauty; I see your rings
and they are different, but
they are a language I know.
They need no explanation so:
I trace them. “I’ve been here before,”
I dreamt, and it feels like home.
I hope, but tread lightly, not wanting
to change a single thing. But
In a season when nothing blooms,
I’ve learned not to fear telling you a thing,
or fear laughing or singing,
or growing beards or talking about things
that underpin you and me.
I pray I am not being overwhelmed
and that I am not overwhelming.
For now, I’ll sit long beside you.
I’ll listen to your leaves blow,
and I’ll water everything
that God’ll let me.