The Therapist and the Tree.
He stands before me,
barely dressed and seemingly lonely.
I would ask him where he came from,
or keep him some company,
but it wouldn't do him or I any good.
There's somewhat of a language barrier.
He's shaking, but for some odd reason,
I don't think a blanket or I could provide him
with any substantial amount of warmth.
He has no eyes with which to see
my sympathetic smile,
no way of knowing just how much
I appreciate him at this very moment,
at this particular point in my life's journey.
I find him to be incredibly awkward,
and somewhat insecure.
But undoubtedly graceful.
The one thing that eases my mind
concerning this timid creature
is his strength.
One wooden foot planted firmly in the aged soil beneath him.
He is small, and vulnerable.
Those surrounding him seem to taunt his flimsy frame.
But this unique child of the earth
stays put, hundreds of tiny bits of
hopefulness and determination,
clinging to his weakened body for dear, sweet life.
We both know they can't cling forever.
We both know that they will soon fall to that soil at his foot.
Will it be his end? Will he be sacrificed?
Or will the spring fill his flailing physique,
and put some color in those dreary cheeks?
Only time will tell of his fate.
There is nothing I could prescribe, no words of comfort I could share.
Sometimes,
letting nature run it's course
is the only real treatment.
barely dressed and seemingly lonely.
I would ask him where he came from,
or keep him some company,
but it wouldn't do him or I any good.
There's somewhat of a language barrier.
He's shaking, but for some odd reason,
I don't think a blanket or I could provide him
with any substantial amount of warmth.
He has no eyes with which to see
my sympathetic smile,
no way of knowing just how much
I appreciate him at this very moment,
at this particular point in my life's journey.
I find him to be incredibly awkward,
and somewhat insecure.
But undoubtedly graceful.
The one thing that eases my mind
concerning this timid creature
is his strength.
One wooden foot planted firmly in the aged soil beneath him.
He is small, and vulnerable.
Those surrounding him seem to taunt his flimsy frame.
But this unique child of the earth
stays put, hundreds of tiny bits of
hopefulness and determination,
clinging to his weakened body for dear, sweet life.
We both know they can't cling forever.
We both know that they will soon fall to that soil at his foot.
Will it be his end? Will he be sacrificed?
Or will the spring fill his flailing physique,
and put some color in those dreary cheeks?
Only time will tell of his fate.
There is nothing I could prescribe, no words of comfort I could share.
Sometimes,
letting nature run it's course
is the only real treatment.