a psalm for trees

I am a tree and I am quite lonely.  I weep in the rain.  For the sake of Allah, listen to what I have to say.  Drink down your coffee so your sleep abandons you and your eyes open wide.  Stare at me as you would at jinns and let me explain to you why I’m so alone.

— from My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk

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We cut them down…just to wipe our ass in comfort.

They watch over us, the world, each other…seeing it all…feeling it all…

And without a word we cut them down.

But then we’ve looked at them for shelter for many years.  We just don’t take the time to listen anymore.  To let them carve into us the names of their loves.

I want to get lost among them…listening to their stories…understanding their knowledge of God.  Follow their wisdom about love and long life.

I want to tell them about the summits of mountains and the trenches of oceans.  Those things they’ll never see.

But I too am guilty of cutting them down.

As am I guilty of cutting myself down.

Just so it will be more comfortable to wipe my ass.

for AWags

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