The Musings of an Oak

For a few years now, I have stood here watching ~ waiting for her. She always finds her way back to me. Sometimes she comes with the rain. She walks slowly towards me. I am aware of a deliciously, familiar sense of belonging within her, which at other times is not a part of her.

There have been countless times when I have silently ~ longingly ~ looked upon her as she walked among us or sat in the shade of my presence, a presence rooted in strength, serenity and a patience born of a loving awareness of life.

We have a strange and beautiful bond between us ~ a relationship which transcends the language of words. I watch as she walks a distance from me, sits down on the grass and looks up at me. I sometimes perceive an urgency about her or feel an over-powering sense of awe come alive in her. Her being reaches out to me. Her unspoken words tell me that the only place in the world for her to be is where she is! I study her face as she drinks in my beauty, my poised balance and the gentle dancing rhythm of my leaves. Her being communicates both the gratitude and peace which fill her. There are times when I stand in amazement at her inability to take her eyes away from me.

I have often seen her with her little daughter. I love to watch as they walk hand in hand, sharing the moment. I sense her mood at times and “where she lives” in time. I see the love and the joy which she holds for this child as she instills in her a profound gratitude for life, a respect for all living things, a deep communion with nature and a passionate wonder for the elements.

I remember watching them another day. The clouds obscured the sun and an almost haunting stillness pervaded the surroundings ~ and then the rain came pouring down! It was as if they had been handed one of the most beautiful of gifts. They ran and they danced and they laughed. Suddenly, my friend knelt on the ground and opened her arms to this little child who ran ever so swiftly, with little arms outstretched and a sunburst on her face, into those waiting arms. I could sense within these moments an incredible surge of love and gratitude for each other. The more wet they became, the greater the laughter I heard echoing throughout. Then they danced and they danced and they danced!

One day ~ a day that could rival any day which we could possibly imagine, they appeared again. I could sense emptiness within my friend; yet, within that emptiness, I touched upon a struggle, a struggle to detach, to let go. This slowly gave way to a sense of something more ~ but something which couldn’t be named. I watched as she followed closely her daughter’s every step. The squirrels and the birds, for this little child, were like rare delights and small wonders placed in this universe for her.

As I continued my vigil, the child ran and my friend followed. Suddenly, she found herself ~ her feet ~ imprisoned in muddy mire. They both laughed then. My friend looked down at her feet. That mire in an instant became more precious than gold. I felt an awakening within her, an unfolding, as it were, of one of life’s most simple yet elusive truths.

She looked up at the sky and I saw a kind of hunger cross over her face ~ a hunger which is both satisfied by the magnificent beauty that enveloped her ~ that almost swallowed her being ~ and yet, a hunger which could never be filled by that same beauty, for it could never be grasped or possessed but simply lived in.

My friend took her daughter by the hand, closed her eyes and remained still. I could see the slow transformation taking place within her, as if by some invisible light bathing over her, reaching down and touching the core of her existence. I could read within that stillness what her humanity was silently crying out ~ that if she died at this very instant, it would not matter because within this one instant, this one hour, lived a rare and beautiful lifetime.

I think you should write a short story with a similar style and theme.

This story, does deserve a more detailed description. It seems like a lyric poem, but it doesn’t work as a poem. The theme seems crying out to pop out of the compression of peripheral symbols into detailed sketches of who the woman is, the child, what they represent, and of course, the relevance of the oak tree. Oitherwise, it’s nicely written.

Hi Stuart, can you clarify the “similar style” and “theme”?
Thanks

Hi obe,

This was really just the musings of a very special tree in my park, my favorite tree, my favorite Oak. The woman and child are actually myself and my daughter as you most probably gleaned. Of course, it isn’t a poem. It wasn’t meant to be one.
I suppose I might have expounded more on the relevancy of the Oak tree. I did at least touch on that.
Thank you, obe.

I can’t, I just meant to say I’d like you to write more literature and longer.

 And Thank You, for your kind clarification, to which I would like to resubmit my unceasing curiosity,  to actually to visualize the literary accordion , which , if I may use the analogy of a musical sort, to your essay, unfold.

I can see the ccharacters as familial extensions of familiarity,(or the other way around), however, and for the moment leaving the tree out of it, which may only further obscure, it within the forest of images, there emerges a growing need to see more.  

Once introduced, it I is natural to be able to focus in, get to know them more, if no other than visually being able to separate and inlay the objects within the folds of foreground and background.  In that way, it would cease to me a poem and more as a short story.  

I think it is natural for a writer to set the boundaries as high and as low, as the preported expectations of the reader, as intended to be interpreted. If that  was meant to imply a burden toward the interpretation, then the lyric poem form would really work best.  I feel a music within the lines, which really seeks more contraction, rather than expansion, gathering from your general comments.  If so, the images are much more invaluable than the suggested meanings, and for me, at any rate, more embellishments and some inherent rhyme would be more in tune.  But this is only the way I interpret it.