To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
The Tale of 'Tree'
There's a valley so grand, in a far-away land where the trees grow so lofty and high. And their fragrant green leaves, play in dappled sunbeams proudly lifting their boughs to the sky. One bright day in spring, so the ancient bards sing a great tree shed its seeds to the air. Scattered out far and wide, o'er the green countryside free as birds, they fluttered everywhere. Now the luckiest seeds from that great shelt'ring tree wafted down to a valley below. In the soft soil's embrace and the rain's sweeter taste sprouting quickly, they began to grow. But one seed so small, that had no time to fall soon was snatched by a fierce northern gale. A perverse, callous breeze, icy cold as it seized... the poor seed and with that, upward sailed. Abandoned, alone, the lost seed was soon blown far above the lush meadows and streams. That green valley below, it was NEVER to know. Still born were its hopes and its dreams. To a high mountain peak where the air's thin and weak whirled the wind bearing its tiny load. At the peak's stony fingers, the wind paused to linger dropping seed on the hard rock below. Towards a moist drop of dew, a small root quickly grew most essential of all of its needs. Thus its harsh life began, of indefinite span as the Tree sprouted delicate leaves. Now the little Tree's mother, sisters and brothers growing tall in the warm lowland breeze, enjoyed gentle spring showers, fertile soil, budding flowers satisfying their every need. Straight and tall, quickly growing, every year surer knowing that these gifts were just things they deserved. And they did inherit, all this by their merit and in this was their pride long preserved. But their sister above, enjoyed no such self-love but struggled on that peak to survive. As the hot sun flailed her, and the cold nights assailed her and the snows left her barely alive. But tortuously slow, painfully, she DID grow seeking roots spreading out o'er the stone. Holding fast her small stalk, 'gainst the gales that did rock her high perch, exposed, all alone. Slender trunk grew contorted while winds cruelly thwarted her feeble attempts to grow straight. With perverse daily dashings, howlings and crashings stripping leaves, tender branches would break. And her bark, young and smooth, soon grew gnarled and grooved as cold winter snows covered the mount. Frozen months hibernation brought no spring jubilation as the years stretched too many to count. She often would gaze through the summer's light haze at her sisters growing tall and lean. Statuesque, trunks so slim, light green leaves, slender limbs. Everything that she craved SHE could be. Now her siblings grew bored of the effortless chore of just growing without thought or care. So they looked all around, up the valley and down 'till they spied their lost sister, up there. How the laughter arose when they saw her exposed starkly outlined on high rocky slope. Bent, twisted, racked with pain, lashed by winds and beat by rain as among themselves they would joke. That peak obviously, was no place for a tree surely she was a fool to grow there. Or perchance, they reasoned, each torturous season was punishment that she had to bear. The Tree shivered with shame, as they shouted her name with abuse trees know how to impart. Her fate bewailing, while they, her assailing... cut deep to the core, her soft heart. But trees can't run away, so she just had to stay and endure their cruel gossip and jeers. Standing tall as she could, with her thick stocky wood so relieved they could not see her tears. And so fled the seasons, snowy sleep, summer breezes and in time the lone tree found true friends. Stately the eagle, white plumage so regal and together long years they did spend. Hordes of chipmunks and squirrels, bereft of their burrows found haven in her sheltering shade. Marooned meadow flowers, grew beneath her broad bowers in the calm tranquil hollows she made. And thus slowly, she forgetting past pain and letting... time heal wounds with its slow, measured pace. While she grew with the years, bent and bowed from past tears that receded to deep buried aches. But then strength and wisdom, character and freedom out of each gnarled limb freely flowed. Each day slightly brighter, each year feeling lighter a young heart in a body so old. Then one fateful morn', began a great storm that comes once in the lifetime of trees. Monstrous clouds from on high, inky black, filled the sky in a boiling, surging melee. The storm roared o'er the peaks, pent-up fury released smashing down with sledgehammer blows. Wind and rain struck the valley, a malevolent sally. Hellish lightning and thunder arose. For the first time in their lives, the valley trees cried such rampaging winds were unknown. Slender trunks bent like reeds, straining, screeching agony stripping leaves, as over they were blown. For soft soil couldn't anchor, their roots 'gainst the anger of the storm raging now, at its height. Haughty pride was soon dashed, as they head-long crashed one-by-one, they gave up the fight. E'en a confident few, seeming so strong and huge fine'ly fell into sad, splintered wrecks. For their heart wood was rotten, spongy-soft it had gotten and insects and disease did the rest. But high up on that peak, in the storm's very teeth the tree smiled while the wind whirled about. For she'd seen storms before, a thousand and more all her life she'd been battered on that mount. The storms, she discovered, taught her more than her brothers... and sisters had learned down below. Her short trunk gnarled and bent, thickly massive, confident mocked raging winds, though strong they would blow. And her roots, fanning out from her place on that mount had explored every stony hard crack. And as centuries had passed, held her firmly and fast her anchor through the storm's vain attack. All her leaves were soon stripped, smaller branches were ripped but she laughed at the storm's futile fury. Bolts of lightning did sting, burning pain it did bring although brief and no cause for worry. She preferred the storm's bite to the deep hidden spite in the veiled abuse of her past. Suddenly she could see, she felt, fine'ly, at peace loving just who she was, at last. There's a valley so grand, in a far-away land where the trees grow so lofty and high. And their fragrant green leaves, play in dappled sunbeams proudly lifting their boughs to the sky. But high up on a peak, where the thunderclouds speak and eternal winds gambol and play, is an old twisted tree, young at heart, light and free greeting dawn's golden promise each day.
Originally published on my website under the title "Of Trees."
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!
Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!