(Photo by Karen Wood)
To see the mark of wisdom
In a stately tree ~
One must cut it open.
Its rings bespeak
The years ~ or eons ~
It has watched and waited ...
It has weathered
Seasons and storms,
Diseases and dangers ...
It has nurtured within its leafy arms
Birds of song
And birds of prey ...
It has withstood mighty winds ~ icy assaults ...
And wept inner tears to sustain itself
During unrelenting droughts ...
It has shaded playgrounds
And watched lovers
Stealing kisses ...
It has borne silent witness to unspeakable horrors
Committed beneath its branches
Under the cover of darkness ...
Through the ages, it has suffered neglect ...
Lack of appreciation ...
Isolation ...
As time unfolds, it has enjoyed occasional acknowledgement ...
Sometimes respect ...
Rare devotion.
Yet it always reaches out its arms,
Open and wide ~
And up ~ ever up ...
As it sends its roots deep into The Source
That birthed it ~
And will one day reclaim it as Its Own.
Yes ~ to see the mark of wisdom
In a stately tree ~
One must cut it open.
Only when one can gaze inside ~
At its innermost core,
Can one see the ageless wisdom it held within ...
It must die first ~
Before one discovers how truly wise was
That Wisdom Teacher.
~ By Karen Wood
