Tree of Life - Symbolic poem
A writer for ten years with. a severe case of wanderlust. She spends most her time with her head in the clouds.
Old and wise, gnarled by age
Blow in the wind, and calm thy rage
Mourn the passing of yet another day
And weep because things will never change
Standing proud, with unwavering beauty
True to thyself, with roots planted firmly
Knowledge unspoken
Vows unbroken
Limbs stretched, reaching toward the sky
No reason to be insecure, no reason to be shy
Watching the world unfold in all its glory -never a word
The secrets of life are kept safely inside- never to be heard
The sunset can be seen through those dancing leaves,
As the sky turns purple, orange, and pink
Steadfast you stand, upright you will stay
Because there truly is no other way
As the day passes into the still of night
And the moons glow is the only light
We look up in wonder- yet never see
The world as it was meant to be
I am not sure why, but I have always been fascinated by trees. I feel almost drawn to them, like there is some sort of connection there. When I am stressed, and nothing else helps, out to the woods, I go. In the quiet of the woods, with no one else around, I find my peace, clarity, and perspective. I have oftentimes even wondered if maybe, the trees held some sort of ancient, unknown deity.
When I wrote this poem, I was still with my mentally abusive ex husband. I was miserable, and had absolutely no, confidence in myself. Unbeknownst to me, I had started some sort reawakening process. I was too leave him, less than a year after writing this. I remember, sitting outside, at his parents house, just trying to get through the day. I was upset about something, and wanted to be alone.
So I grabbed my notebook, and sat outside, in glorious silence. I remember looking up and noticing this huge, old oak tree. I was taken aback with it's beauty and strength. I noticed qualities, in this ancient tree, I could only wish to see in myself. So I put pen to paper, and this is what I came up with. It is still, to this day, one of my favorite poems, I have written.
© 2019 Lisa Chronister