the trees whisper for you, if you have to patience to listen.
soft, crooning voices that urge you to rest in their shade,
between their roots and become tangled in their veins.
forests are as hungry as any other living thing;
a wanting settles into the hollows of their trunks,
seeping through the leaves on their branches.
you listen until goosebumps litter your arms,
a shiver stuck on repeat down your spine.
trees know nothing of mercy.
but they know love, and patience, and longing.
the warmth of the sun leaves them for the quiet winter;
in the silence they reinvent themselves to survive another year
where the end is always a footstep away.
and they grow, and grow, and grow,
tree rings as stretch marks,
growing and shedding leaves as fruit hangs heavy in their arms;
the home they provide is the shelter of the earth.
you know of the lightness of the forest:
sunlight through leaves and singing birds in branches.
these trees are pillars to the heavens,
a natural atlas that share the burden among themselves.
you know the darkness of the forest:
buried bones that break under twisting roots,
drinking up blood spilled recklessly in the soil,
the audience of tragedy and survival.
this forest is a cradle and a grave;
here, where you have lived.
here, where you shall die.
until the end lays you to rest,
you rest between the roots of the largest tree in the forest
and listen to it whisper.
i worked too much this week (including a day i wasnt scheduled to go in) so im too tired to write anything good but i wanted to get this out anyways bc i love trees