Trees

Willow and BeechThis is the view from my livingroom-window: I look right into the tall old Sallow and the Beech -look how they enjoy each others company. And I enjoy theirs! Sometimes it feels like I am really inside the branches.

In my work as Expressive Arts Therapist, I often choose to work with poetry with my students. Something magical happens when we let go of the limitations of our habitual “me” and open up to just “let it write.” In my book, “Healing Crisis – 108 Ways to Turn Crises into Possibilities” I describe many ways to elicit the voice of your inner poet –  it really exists in there! I will never forget the first time my teacher showed us how to find it – and the poem that came out of that – never been so surprised:)

But now, I want to share my last poem about a tree – this is an experience I had a week ago.

 

Fall-ing

First frost today

and my red shoe

gently steps onto

the paper thin sheet of ice

on a black puddle, enjoying the delicate creaks

Crisp air with a hint of fir smoke

fills my nostrils, and I become aware that

I am filled with holes from Spring and Summer

 

Waiting for the bus,

I rest my eyes upon the lead gray sky

when the sun breaks through, and

the Elm in utter surrender shatters

her yellow gold like a waterfall:

Illuminated,

leaves spin and spiral, whirl and twirl

Some spin fast

like they are trying to recall their inner

dance before

they congealed into leaf

Some simply and quietly sink ,

blissing all the way down

And as I notice that each leaf I watch

sinks to earth

in its individual way of dancing,

I sense that all my holes

come together

to one vast

space

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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