All photographs©Vijaya Sundaram, 2015-2016
Change, Please
©January 22nd, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
I wonder about trees.
When I consider my life —
So short, so filled with futile
Railing against this and that,
Filled with pride and fall,
Gain and loss,
Wasted effort, and just waste,
I wonder about them.
When I sojourn in the woods,
And gaze about at all the trees
And the quiet, good life
They lead in shadow and sun
I whisper a blessing,
And sing to them.
So fixed, so full of change,
So clamorous, so quiet
So full of conversation,
They creak and groan,
And rustle, and grunt,
And moan and sigh
And break and bend,
And ache and crack,
And are rent asunder by
Cold so bitter, it hurts
To think on it.
I see them, gnarled
And full of exuberance,
Filled with sunlight,
Born of carbon.
Gods they are —
Not in a fairy tale story,
But right before us.
Tall and rooted and
Full of forgiveness.
Full of secrets, full of knowledge,
They speak with each other
Roots entwined, giving strength
To each other, to the ground,
And the fungi on the mossy earth
Carry their message of life far
Along unseen and seen trails.
With their breath, they gift us
Air and rain and wind.
With their secret seeds,
With their forbidden fruit,
With their singing leaves,
And their clutching branches,
With their purple shade
And their hidden places
Where life might grow,
Or come home to die,
They signal Love.
They change us.
And they die, and are born again,
And die again, and are born again.
And … thus,
They are our true gods.
Love them.
Kneel before them.
And before it’s too late,
Change.
Please.
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