by Karen Wilk
I hear with an accent
……But not so this noble tree
Call it a default,
……a challenge
…………My descent,
Upbringing or past–
……You have one too.
Mine has an accent,
……Sometimes sweet retreat
But bias
……jaded?
…………Blinded
………………Embedded
…………………… Deadheaded.
Makes me mad,
……Makes me sad
…………Why couldn’t I hear it?
………………Why did I believe it?
Community prejudice
……In gilded frames
Frames too tight for wiggling,
……For outside-the-line colouring
…………For growth and different thinking–
………………For majesty and mystery linking
……………………to a bigger God
The God who makes little cones into
……Douglas Firs
…………Ancient, regal, divine
Holding many secrets
……Including those
…………beyond our time
Old but ever-new
……Deep roots
…………Ever seeking
………………Ever nurturing, ever reaching
Branches out stretching
……To the sky
…………Soft, fresh needles sprouting
Shading
……Nourishing little creatures
…………Songbirds singing
………………Animals scratching
Wise One without words preaching…
Are we listening, or hearing?
Why can’t we be more like this grand tree?
Age-old, strong, evergreen, free
……Ever changing, growing to be
…………More and new
Waving, engraving space for scribbles
……In gold
……And green, orange, red, blues
What might the future hold
……How might our lives unfold
…………If we could only let go
……And hear, learn, share multiple accents–
…………In startling rainbow hues
Like many branches growing each unique and true
All a gift that life and thriving represents
Beyond our limited thinking
……not bounded by our clouded contexts.
