my branches antennae,
i've spread them so wide
with my leaves, sensors,
i am a tree, a song,
i listen and i feel all.
do not ask me on humans,
their stories bore me.
i grew here centuries
my roots wedged deep
in earth and stones,
no storm has broken me
I just am, i breathe,
i live and i give,
my heart flows out
and gives scent to the air.
leaves, the tree whispers,
voice of living soul
with cries of children,
shadows of kisses and
old ghosts of murder
with distant laughter,
squirrels and birds,
their rustle and calls.
the witness, tall,
observer of humans
and owls and insects
streams out his presence.
the moon low and full
touches the tree in
the dark, at night,
fingers of light and
giving a shadow,
as if asking, talking:
how do you stay pure,
tree, the waters move
with my presences,
plants grow and women
bleed and give birth.
i see all from above,
i have to be so far.
the tree was silent,
breathing, and the wind
rose again, giving
a song to the grass
and a pause after
for blessing and grace.
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