I became an orphan
aged forty-two
Mother gone too soon
and stayed too long
Her limbs, trees bent at impossible angles
each joint unmoving, marked by gnarled knots
She clung tenaciously to this world, stubbornly rooted
fear photosynthesized into obstinate will
digging into earth turned soft
Flooded by tears of pain, exhaustion, loss
Her sturdy scarred trunk waivered
as the ground she grew from eroded
Sadness washing away the firmament
Worried winds of what-ifs and need-tos whipped through her leaves
pushing her crown askew and pulling her limbs
down and away
Come with me, they whispered
I held her hand
bent my head down to rest on hers
my lips to her ear, I breathed
"Mom
It's okay if you need to go"
"But
I don't want to go," she said
"I'm not ready yet"
My proud tree of a mother
stood solidly rooted in this world, unwavering
against the whims of nature
So the winds, now wailing
tired of waiting
heaved her over
roots and all, mercilessly
Torn from the tendered ground she lay
solid
branches still stretching out, beckoning
roots still clinging to earth
for life
Only Fate could fell this towering woman.
The groans of twisting wood
the howls of angry wind
the suck of grit and strength
wrenched from the slippery mud
are my legacy
to remember and
to relive.
No longer a sapling
I possess wisdom in my rings
My branches have already begun to bend
in odd directions
mapped by small scars
always growing bigger
Until one day, when
the ground gives way and
the winds wail for me
"Come daughter,
it is time."
