Questions of an Unknown Tree

The Feelings in the Rings Evergreen

We love to dance to the zephyr

We wish to be the vibrations of the whispering wind

We experience the caress of the beloved in the gentle breeze

We let go of ourselves and sway with the dancing trees

But!!!

Have you ever stopped and wondered if the trees cherish the wind?

Does the tree enjoy reaching the sky growing perpendicular to the earth?

Do the saplings bear the pain of the struggles when it sprouts from a seed?

Do the branches reminisce the conversations of the perched birds in the comfort of its stillness?

Are the concentric rings stories woven in patterns or cries of help?

Do the leaves smile, as they fall to the soil in a rhythm uncared?

Does the bark feel the scars as it bleeds with the falling branches?

Is there a mourning of the fruits lost to existence that were nourished in compassion?

Will there be tears as the flowers become a peace offering to the storms?

Is there a song as the kernel is uprooted and thrown from its place of conception?

Does the tree journey in joy through her endless years of seeing others come and go?

Does the tree miss being the abode to the creations who further their existence in her?

Does the tree feel the end of the self with an axe, a fire, a storm, a death?

I have hugged a tree asking her these questions

Each time to be greeted with different heights of answers

She says,

I am the seed, ready to accept each depth

I am the branch, eager to grow through pain

I am the leaf, discovering newer patterns

I am a ring, revealing the tests of time

I am the flower, welcoming the seekers

I am the fruit, wishing to give without seeking

I am the canopy, striving to reach the zenith

I am the wind, a song of my quest

I am the shade, empathetic to the other

I am the dance, sharing the energy with the lover

I know not what the tree desires

But I see her wounds cast over time by a you and me

I know not if the imagined images of love are the feelings of a tree

But I see it being felled only to start the process again

I know not the language of the bees and vultures with the wood

But I see the paths of many that lead to the forest of safety

I know not the journey, questions, pain of a dense jungle

But I do know our roots are intertwined in our timeless travels

I know not who painted you in colous of peace and hope

But I do know you as a green and yellow poem of prayer

The author is an Indian Classical Dancer, Educator, Performer, Storyteller, Writer and TEDx Speaker. For more works from her, do follow on Instagram and Facebook.