…content, are you…though my tears cast shadows upon thee…tears whose weight and multitudes you were neither courageous to have carried, nor worthy to have caused?
…odd and overcast be…this, your lot…connecting you to your willing wickedness…try to fell me…try…here on this truthed ground I stand…am what I ought to be, whilst you are not.
(Inspirational Credit; “…In a real sense, all life is inter-related. All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny….” — Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Letter From a Birmingham Jail”)
Which is better of a tree? Which is better use of me?
To speak of its presence? Saying, “How strong its solemness, standing tall, withstanding all?” Asking you to close your eyes and opine on how it could be that such a tree only sometimes sways and creaks, whilst all creatures around it move about, busily in elsewhere mode?
Or shall I show this photograph…evidencing all my skill? See here my theft of light, my manipulation of mirrors? All the while holding my breath, knowing all I’d offer you was a lie to your eye, an insult to its blessed, innate sense of depth, of dimension?
Walk we instead, up to this friend and touch, even taste its barked bend? It won’t mind! Trace your finger to its roots-there’s solemnity! Follow, follow upward eyes, leaves dancing in the wind. Shading, singing as a friend?
Wherever is my friend
Reach. Oh, please reach!
I wish your teacher
LisaRosier.com 