In Praise of Trees

trees friends

In Praise of Trees
Joseph Anthony

In Praise of Trees

God is in the trees,
wind-infused, sifting through branches,
whispering eternal solutions to everyday problems,
wholly unafraid, spreading infinite roots,
holding the sun on the tips of his fingers,
cracking new skin making new rings appear rippling forth
and so on and so on unto eternity.
Goddess is in the trees,
elegant and wise,
moon-shawled shoulders,
stars in hair, branches spreading shelter and touches,
and invitations to holy silence:
Come, sit down against me, she says, and rest,
feel what real solidity is, and the strength
I bear in my boughs for you and birds
And climbing children, tree houses,
And nests of eagles and hawks.

God is the trees, shadow-maker verdant green,
Goddess is in the trees, shadow-dappled fire-crowned,
God is in the trees, leaning down to lift the little ones up–squirrels
baby raccoons, cicada nymphs, and wayward snakes and cats,

Goddess is in the trees, lifting the sky, setting out stars,
God is in the trees, stirring the clouds,
weaving constellations of planets and stars,
Goddess is in the trees, mingling roots with earth and singing
Incantations of nourishing wonder,
God is in the trees offering space for ravens to assemble, like
Monks and ministers, where owls can perch, like
Joan of Arc and Sister Odilia after her sight is returned,
Goddess is in the trees, tossing leaves, like
Little ships, each catching a glimpse of the light
As they sail away in streams and rivers,
Carrying holds of gold and hope for tomorrow
And now, there and here, everywhere
Moments are opening to space and time,
That Goddess gives and gives some more,
God is in the trees, seed-sailing, breath-giving
Wanting only the best for you and me
And the giraffe nibbling leaves,
Goddess is in the trees, seed-spiraling, seed-blessing,
Seed sending, each with a message
That says:
Abudance is real
And available
in each and every beat of the heart.
God and Goddess are in the trees,
Intertwined and interwoven, like lyric and song,
And night and day, Lover, Beloved,
Mountain and sky.
God and Goddess are in the trees,
Blanket of leaves and branches of intricate wishes.
Stop a moment,
give yourself over to them,
kneel at their roots,
Sleep in their arms,
Pray to their slow, patient consciousness
Pervading the ground of being with filigrees of earth-touching,
Water-drawing, heart-holding roots,
Pervading the sky with air-climbing tendrils of praise
And praise and praise,
And palms that open in gratitude sweet with tears,
Hear them as they sing:
You have been born
And you have been seen
And you have been carried here
Through our passageways
and intentions and through our conscious
Benevolence and kindly mischievousness,
Through each ring and root and leaf,
Through each swaying in summer storm,
through each autumn when we dress in our finest clothes,
through each standing still in winter, arms outstretched, gathering snow,
and through each spring when we surprise you again and again
with green, sweet green, and blossoms that rain delicate
and heavenly, and fruit, more fruit than you can ever imagine,
it is all for you, breathe it in—breathe it in.
This sky is for you, breathe it in-
We are for you,
Breathe us in—
This earth is for you—
Breathe it in—
This moment in time and space–
Is for you—
Breathe it in—
This song, this fragrance of unity and restfulness—
They are for you—
Breathe them in,
And pray to one another
Compassionate prayers
Let your love spiral through us like
ribboning wind, and know that we hear you
and know that we are you
and know that you’re never alone.
Let every tree, every branch, every root, every leaf, every seed,
And every least bit of kindling and firewood,
Every table and chair, pencil and bookcase,
Let them all be reminders
Of our presence and what we allow
And ache for you to make with us, create with us—
Breathe it all in.
And know that we,
God and Goddess,
Are here
In love
With you.

Thank you for your kind donations to keeping the work of the Wonder Child Blog going.



Truer Than True, A Poem For the Earth

Truer Than True
A Poem for the Earth
Joseph Anthony

Truer Than True

Roots are upside down trees
Spreading into vast, dark sky.
A sky thick with loam
That loves to give way to shovels and tillers,
A sky packed with clumps
Of cumulous clay,
A sky studded with the constellations
Of rocks and bone,
A sky woven with hidden rivers
And jubilant, Gordian worms,
A sky populated by sleeping cicada nymphs,
Burrowing rabbits, and moles
That tunnel blindly with dirt in their whiskers,
A sky punctuated with light-hearted seeds
And heavy, densely packed bulbs and tubers.
Yet, in the end, what is
This terra firma sky?
What is this rich, moist soil
That smells so heavenly?
What is it the roots grasp and let go of
The earth, the soil, this stuff the rocks and bones,
Rivers and creatures all subsist in stories. It’s all stories
Building up over scrolls of millennia,
Libraries of centuries, composing,
Revisioning, edited by graves
And buried treasures, frackers,
And coal mines, wells and chasms
Of underground mountains yet to be born,
Only to dissolve again into
Infinitesimal grains, like
So many syllables dropped
From the whispered lips
Of bards, minstrels, and children,
And those who die face down
In the mud. Stories.
That’s what roots are surrounded by
And nibble on and assimilate.
And all of them truer than true.
Like flakes of mica, snowflake obsidian,
Fossils and caskets, tears and keys, arrowheads
And shards of pottery. True like rivers
That astonish us for finding ways
To flow underground and soak roots
With slathering kisses. True, like
Underground lakes surrounded
By rainbow-tinted cathedrals.
True like blood slowly seeping
Into cool, autumn leaves.
Stories are the soul of the earth,
The soul of sod and the ground of being,
Stories are the stuff of earth,
The very ground that lifts us through
Our every step and sorrow, our every
Joy and blunder, our every wandering
And seeking, our every discovery
And revelation. And they nourish
And compose us, form and speak us,
Sing and cry us, lament and celebrate us.
And each one of us, each and every
One of us, born from the soil,
Born from the ground,
This endlessly mothering earth,
Is a walking story, a living, breathing,
Story, stumbling, dancing, rising
And falling, and each one of us,
Each and every one,
Is truer than true.