Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Her back is broken

Yesterday in the serious heat of the day I went to examine her. The wind recently has pushed a few trees over and it had been some time since I was so up close and personal with my favourite tree. Her body exists in two states, to me she faces the rising sun and her skin here is gone showing just holed powdered muscle. Her back still has skin but large cracks have appeared which open and close ever so slightly even in a soft breeze. She is failing, she is falling. As you read this you might find it strange that I refer to this tree as feminine but the characteristics of this tree make it so. Strength, the ability to endure and tussle with life with its many wayward directions. It contains too many curves, too many smooth surfaces for me to see it any other way. I have spoken about this tree, many times. Time is slipping away for my favourite subject, I countinue to pay tribute.

This tree also did not die from natural causes; it was killed by the actions of others. When I was at my darkest, lowest point with my dance with depression. I saw this tree in a new way. It was dead inside, killed, but still standing tall. It is frozen in its death forever reaching out, almost praying and screaming into the sky for something, anything. So much like myself. A hard statement to make perhaps even now, true none the less and the trees strength gave me hope. Perhaps only a fools hope but in the void while travelling downwards on the spiral, hope is a welcome change of direction.

It has been a while since I could hold my head up high; I will not let it fall again. Life is all about connections, most of us are forever searching for the little things. If you do not understand, perhaps you have stopped looking?

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