Title: The Tree
Submitted by: Sarah H.
I wanted more time to write and sort through my thoughts. Since quarantine began, I have taken advantage of the time and write something everyday.
The first time I realized I could die, I was seven. The truth of it gripped me tight and real as I hung from the Tree.
The strong tree with its vast seas of bark and branch. A silent strength I still hope to embody one day.
On that day, it bore witness to my discovery of death but also my quiet will to live. My calloused soles reaching for and finding purchase on the old picnic bench. I knew myself that moment. I am calm in chaos. But there was no Odin-level pride to pair with my lesson on the Tree. It was a private, somber knowledge and I told no one for a decade.
Myself to Myself. Myself to the Tree.
Life became easier after that. Rather… life became clearer after that. Easier for knowing that there is a choice and I choose life. Clearer for the scale to weigh the rest of life’s heartache and sores. Clearer still to relish in its beauty and hope.
Life’s waves ebb and flow with gentle blues and savage greens. They lap and crash. Sometimes I am shaken, pushed back from the force. But, always, my roots deepen into my choice, deeper into my silent strength.