#Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore

Well, little one,” said a Tree to a Reed that was growing at its foot, “why do you not plant your feet deeply in the ground, and raise your head boldly in the air as I do?”

 

“I am contented with my lot,” said the Reed. “I may not be so grand, but I think I am safer.”

 

“Safe!” sneered the Tree. “Who shall pluck me up by the roots or bow my head to the ground?” But, it soon had to repent of its boasting, for a hurricane arose which tore it up from its roots, and cast it a mere, gigantic and useless log on the ground, while the little Reed,
bending to the force of the wind,  back and forward, soon stood upright again when the storm had passed.

 

Moral of Aesops Fable: Obscurity often brings security.

Nobody felt safe, we knew the world had changed and the power of us poppies were strengthened by the support of having one another. Sometimes, close friends would whisper their fears amongst themselves but mostly, we walked with our heads lowered, burrowed in heavy winter jackets as if their jackets were shields, our hoods covering our faces, of course they were. We hid beneath as many layers as we possibly could because deep inside we are scared to death, our new reality. We couldn’t lie, we were all in this together and that brought comfort to us.

Even when we didn’t watch the news or read the papers, the news would slip out like oily black ink and it would stain our petals, our brains and those images never, ever would go away. Fear was imprinted on our souls and there was nothing we could do to forget what we had seen or heard.

It was the devil’s handshake, some people called it, those who thought they knew better or pretended that they weren’t afraid, those boasting about how much money they had, their egos, over-inflated, grown-up bullies.

One old, grand big tree, we called “the monster” was mean to everyone,

English: a tree

a child, an elder grandmother, sweet white puppies. There was no excuse for that, the fat cow could not ever explain that away even if anyone wanted to listen but nobody did. Her justice will come in her own way, in tepid waters of muddy grass, sloshing through messy brown mud endlessly, never finding her way back. Homeless. Alone. Thinking she was smarter, because of her size and depth, stronger, more powerful than everyone else. All bluster, self-deprecating to hide the cruel reality of knowing not who she really was but how others truly saw her.

It escaped no one but herself. One day, even she, would look up from the ground and see herself, still strong, roots planted, with wildflowers all around her, petals of rose, pink,

yellow, and blue, laughing together, the sound of sweet angels in a club, chirpy birds were invited but the club had no room for her.

The tables had turned, it taken a long time but eventually karma had caught up. Our soft willows, loose wildflowers, dancing in the wind, singing songs, perhaps not in harmony, but with delight and passion, having fun, we felt sorry for that big old maid, that over-critical stump.

Alone, all alone in the middle of the forest, away from everyone else, while the rest of us could bend with the wind, smile at the sunshine with the lovely wind and whistles as a mere game of promise and friendship and love.

English: Old tree stump, Beaulieu Wood The rem...

We were all friends, together, except for Her, that snobby tree, who criticized everybody, yet never looked inside her rotten, ugly, stump, its decay on the inside visible to those outside, its scent slowly, insidiously, reeking of week old trash, of judgment, of her.

The fragile willows, we,  bent together, laughing, this way and that, in abundance, we knew we were all equal, all the same not better than one another,

that kept us together, happy. We trusted one another.

We were one united bunch of laughing flowers,our heads gloriously pointed to sun. The old, big tree stump, callous and mean, sat in shambles on the ground, broken, alone. we walked over its pieces and never looked back.When it rained all of us just bent a little lower and in the distance you could hear us not breaking but singing, quiet songs, happy songs in unison.

 

 

 

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Haiku Horizons, Scrap

NATIONAL METALS JUNKYARD - NARA - 544831

NATIONAL METALS JUNKYARD – NARA – 544831 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I face the corner

tossed away, back handed slap

I do not fit in.

*  *  *  *  *  *

You, lie, back- stabber

try to steal my character,

Dishonest people.

*  * * * * * * * * * * *

The scraps of my soul

Now discarded in gray ash

Shows me who YOU are.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Breathe, stay in Goodness

Don’t be influenced by them

Let your own heart rule.

Enhanced by Zemantaphoto credit: Wikipedia, National Medals Junkyard, NARA-544831

Yellow Magic Madness #45

Morning sun on snow at Kelsall

Morning sun on snow at Kelsall (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The first real snowfall, pretty white flakes clinging to trees. Ice is slippery and

frightening. The sky is first black and white but when it clears for a moment or two

the sun comes out and makes these branches glisten.

Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore, Photo Prompt

the stars around us

long ago i sat under the stars now seems like ive been sittin here under this tree for all my life. all my life cal313030and nothin’s changed.  i sit here in the morning, at night, don’t matter. someone asked me if i was happy, what the hell she mean by happy. i don’t know what happy means no more, can’t feel it, can’t remember it,cant taste  it. but not sure i remember real sad neither. i sit in my chair under my tree, yes in deed that is my tree just watching and listening to the Lord to see if the Lord wants me to come Home or not or if i should just stay on here. im not surprised by nothing, no more.

why should I be? seen too much destruction in my home, too much sadness and pain, you know nothing about me so dont judge me, little boy. what do you think you know, something better? well you dont. i had it all too once, yup, me and my friends who used to live down the street, we all had us some good jobs and on friday nights we would take us out with our gals and we would have us a fine night, eatin dinner out, dancin under the stars and smokey playing the guitar, me on the haermonica. everyone else laughing and drummin, the beer and wine flowed an we didnt care that we was drinkin from paper cups, why that was like china crystal for us, we didnt know better and we didnt care neitther. nothing was more important to us than doing an honest days work, being with family, eating all together with friends and looking at the stars around us. why that was the most beautiful picture of them all.

you dont need a lot of money for beauty, thats what i’m trying to tell u  but a little money, yeah, that does help. I got none now, none, not for lack of trying, but sooner or later you just bury those dreams and give up cuz no one care about you anymore and you feel the same way. i dont care about me no more, i eat whats other peoples leftovers are, i crawl around at night, i cant walk quick no more, but  i can get around with the cane i made myself so i get scraps here an there, i share them sometimes. i dont care about eating, no more tho i used to, have my pots and pans still, little stove. i don’t use them much.

i just sit, waiting, just in case someone visits, i even got an extra chair beside me but i know, it stays empty, and thats just alright, juz fine by me. i had that love once, i dont get   entitled to a second round mized up my life with the wrong people  and too much drinkin. so now i sit alone, i know no one is coming round to see me, i know that chair besides mine is gonna be empty till the day they carry me out from here, stone cold dead.

Haiku Heights: Tree

Uprooted tree from Storm Sandy

Uprooted tree from Storm Sandy (Photo credit: Arlington County)

Trunk ripped by its roots

flipped like the white of an egg

We crouch together.

*****

Once felt as sturdy

the tree weeps its bitter tears

and says I’m sorry

*****

Our small family

I brought you into this world

and helped you to grow.

*****

Like lovers soft limbs

branches intertwine with grace

Natural beauty.

When Saying NO is Harder Than Saying YES

Two friends

I usually talk out situations with people until they are resolved in my mind, in both our minds, to each others satisfaction. I hate confusion and murky waters. But I’ve decided, today, that sometimes it really is better for both parties, during a misunderstanding (if you can even call it that) to step back and let a little time pass. Hurt feelings on both ends take time. I need to stay centered myself and remind myself, which is really hard sometimes, of my own tree: “I Am A Tree” https://hibernationnow.wordpress.com/2011/12/17/i-am-a-tree/. Sometimes when there is a whirlwind of activity things throw me off kilter and then I need to steady myself. Always, inside, I know what feels right and what the truth is and that is unshakable, it is also a gift.

I don’t want to fight with anyone, I don’t want to cause anyone harm or pain or discomfort, I NEVER DID but I also need to stay true to myself. Right now, with an ailing, elderly mother, much stress from the house and the financial situation, I need to concentrate on my family and our own situation. Sometimes, I need help too.

I mean no harm, to anyone, never did, never will. We all need to find our own paths to take to find peace and happiness and a sense of well-being. Sometimes it’s the internet itself that brings confusion, nuances are misconstrued, there is a lack of feeling that doesn’t come across.

So, for me, I’m staying in touch with my emotions and with my reality. I’m not leaving, losing or forgetting. I am the same person I always was and hope to be. May everyone’s day be filled with hope and sunshine and great possibilities for the future. I wish everyone peace, love, good health and great joy. Be true to yourself, that is what I strongly suggest. Be True To Yourself, Always.

I Am A Tree

Shoreshw

I have always felt like a twig or a gnarly branch of someone else’s tree but no longer. I have had many years of work preparing to separate myself from the others. I realized last night, in a startling image in my head, that I am my own tree now with my roots planted firmly underground.

When people say crazy or exaggerated things, I no longer have to immediately lose my control and jump into their anxiety or depressed fervor. I can look at loose branches, scattering in the wind, twigs darting through the air and I can still be strong.

I was made to be strong, strong for myself and for others. It takes quite a bit of time to be able to do this, to be on one’s own. It has nothing to do with marriage or relationships or even age. I like to think of it as wisdom.

One day, no different from all other days, I saw the image of my tree standing firm inside my head.  Even though someone was trying to rudely shake me, break me, tear me down with buzz saws; I stayed. Perhaps my leaves were initially flustered as leaves get in the blustery, cold winds of December, but they settled themselves very calmly after that, snug in their dream-filled evening sleep. The bright, round-faced moon above gave them whatever light they wanted for their entertainment. Initially, they looked to me once to make sure things were alright and I gave them my sign, a wink, a nod and a reassuring smile. Steadiness, calmness, like patience, is what I want to pass on to them, my children. They come back to me year after year with their bursting colors of oranges, red, and yellow in all combinations of brightness. We celebrate together with laughter and hugs, as many as there are stars in the sky.  The leaves come back as changed beings, of course, but that is what they need to do, and it is my job to let them. Even when I am bare, I will know, that I am strong, to pave the way that lays silent at dusk.

Beyond The Pink Sky

Free for use My photos that have a creative co...

Image via Wikipedia

I’m watching tiny flecks of snow come down constantly, through the trees and on the trees like vanilla frosted brownies. It is peaceful with my husband and children home. They have a snow day and they are as excited now as they were when they were eight and ten. I don’t think you ever  get over the excitement of a snow day, no matter how old you are or what you do.

My daughter and I ate egg and cheese sandwiches that my husband made. Our son sat in the family room in his blue fleece beer mug pajama pants, his phone in one hand, the other playing X-box. I wanted to say “come here, watch the snow fall from the sky” but I know better. At their ages, 16 and 18, they have their own personal snow scenes that don’t include me. It took some getting used to when they were in their early teens but now we have settled into a routine. I know that this routine will only last a little while and then it will change and be replaced by another. I’m not great with change but I know I need 24-48 hours to get used to new things and then I am fine or as fine as I can possibly be.

I am wearing my dad’s old West Point sweatshirt and blue snow flake pajama pants, lying in our bed, alternately reading, writing and glancing up to the sky to see the delicate flakes fall. The sky is so full of snow that it looks pink. I always say I hate the winter and I do but for the first time I wonder if I did live in a warm climate all year round, would I miss it?  Would I appreciate Spring as much as I do if I didn’t have to go through Winter?

My daughter just brought me a cup of tea and served it to me in my room. How lovely that she asked me if I wanted a cup. Children are joyful beings and as an old teacher once said “they will constantly surprise you” and they do. My children will be grown-ups soon, they will age, as we all do. My children have grown up here in our little house with their bikes and skateboards, “Razors”  and their lemonade stands.

The best thing I have ever done in my life is to get married to my loving husband and have two of the most amazing children you could hope for. I never had much ambition in life other than being a mom and writing, but being a mom is who I am; it’s what I was meant to do; it’s my Nobel Peace prize, my heart and my soul, my life’s work.

When our work in life is completely over bury me near a tree that blooms pink flowers with my husband and soul-mate, my love and best friend beside me. If all it said on my headstone was “Loving Wife” and “Beloved Mother” I would be gently smiling, and at peace.

The Somewhere Tree

Wind Damaged Tree On E. Knapp Street

Image by Shamanic Shift via Flickr

I don’t exist, at least in the same way I have existed before. You won’t recognize me; I’m hiding out. I am a thick, sturdy, massive tree and maybe I am folding someone deep inside me or around me, or in my sturdy limbs high up into the rich, blue sky. I won’t tell you. I have disappeared because this is where I want to be. I don’t know if I will come out of hiding sometime or will stay behind these thick brown roped off curtains I made myself that contain me; comfort me. If I am hidden no one will steal my heart or break it into shards of mirror glass and take advantage of me.

Maybe my silhouette or the swing of my wiry tree hair show as the wind passes by my burlap sap and brown cloak. I intend to blend in with others, or maybe hide behind them for as long as I choose; for as long as I need. I felt a lot of things that I don’t feel anymore.

It’s as if I am out of my body looking in, trying to remember who I was and why I was that way. My heart was way too open, and too big for my body. My emotions were on overdrive, my thoughts obsessed with sympathy and kindness. I sat up once, curled into myself, sobbing. This was not my fault, these were conflicts I should not have been allowed to witness. This was NOT something I did; I am innocent. Something, somebody should have been there to protect me, to draw me back out of the wind, to rescue me but no one did. This attack felt like a tsunami or a tornado.

My eyes peek out behind the outline of my shadow. They dart back and forth, to the left, to the right and then they close.  It is all black and rosy and peaceful when my eyes are closed. I choose not to see anybody. I am now a tree that has stood proud and tall with missing branches from the high winds; limbs cut off, dangling in the middle between life and death. Too many people in this world judge others, that’s not how life is supposed to be. Sit with me on the grass and listen.

Life is hard, we all know that. At my age I have experienced hardship as well. There is no age limitation on pain, physical and emotional chronic pain. Back off, please don’t try to touch me; I can almost feel you near me and I don’t want to. I will shrink and cringe if you approach me. I will go inside out.

I have helped you from my heart but that same heart is no longer here. It cracked into bits and never put away. It was not like a picture puzzle; the pieces don’t fit in the right place anymore, and they won’t. Once you have lost your heart, or it has cracked, your heart will never beat in the same way again. You will skip a beat or you will have an extra irregular beat but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t take away the love that was in your heart; I am protecting my heart.  You can also feel that you are being hit, again and again, until you gasp with pain and have trouble taking a breath. I am a tree in a blizzard, fighting to stand strong, my limbs are moving, my bark is now unattached, flying into the air, everywhere but home to me.  You can still see the tree but it is not the same. I tried to show you who I was but you left, not noticing that the tree you once loved was now completely different. You walked away.