Hate is a Forest, I am a Stone
On the horizon I see a dense, green forest. The further you look into it, the darker it gets.
Everywhere I turn, it is in view.
It is familiar, yet it frightens me. Oak. Maple. Evergreen. Symbols of strength. Of nourishment. Of warmth.
The branches are heavy with many leaves, tiny acorns, sticky pine cones. The forest floor is littered with remnants. A carpet of fallen needles and brittle branches.
I know these trees and yet I am fearful. I know their sinister nature and with all of my heart I wish I was a woodsman. A lumberjack with a saw. What can I do? I am only a stone.
A stone that lies on the edge of the forest. Small in comparison to the giant before me. The giant that whispers things I can not understand. It's language is foreign to me, but the tone I recognize. Menacing, unrelenting. I look the other way. The picture is almost identical. I see familiar shapes. I know this tree, as well. And the one next to it and beyond. I can see that they are not alone. The sound carries from the depths. An echo that reaches me. I tremble because I am just a stone.
I feel to my left and to my right. There are more like me. As unique in appearance as the trees.
I am comforted. Comfortable. I think of how it's true that there's comfort in numbers. But I have heard that there is also strength to be found. How? My size equals one fallen acorn.
Collectively, I wonder if we frighten the forest. Is it possible that a bed of stones could silence the whispers from the trees? Or will the forest crush the stones? Fall upon the bed and break us into a thousand pieces.
Many leaves have found their way onto the edge. What moves them? The breeze carries them to me. A forceful air from beyond my vision. Through the forest it moves, unknowingly picking up the leaves. Transparent, they are like ghosts. I am helpless because I am reminded of their past. The awfulness of what they were. Although they are no longer living, what they were is visible still. They try to blanket me. I see them dancing lifelessly over my neighbor.
I notice that I, too, am moving. And although I am nestled, I connect with the stone on my left. I wonder about the warmth I feel. The color is orange. The sound is crisp.
At night, I dream of what's beyond the horizon. I can not see it, but I know it exists. I imagine that it's much like what I can see in the light above the treetops. I dream of a lifetime, of an eternity without the forest. This place that is thick with seen and unseen horrors. I remember the color and warmth I sensed the previous day. The breeze is friendly and I am being rocked against my partner. I can see that what I felt was actually a spark. In my dreams, it ignites the wayward, ghostly leaf. On it's journey, it ignites another. The wind picks up and the spark becomes a flame.
Can it be? I see that the floating flame has settled on the forest floor, beneath a tree. I can't hear what the tiny fire sounds like, because the whispers drown out it's voice. I sense that something has changed. Mingled in the chorus, is a sound I am familiar with. Fear. At the forefront, I hear it. I imagine that it echoes to the rear.
The wind does not die tonight. The fire grows and inches it's way up the tree's trunk, skyward. It's fiery fingers travel along the branches that are intertwined with it's nearest companions. As the first is engulfed and destroyed, the next is beginning it's end. I can hear it now, as it picks up speed. The sound is sharp and clear.
Soon, everywhere I turn, I see orange flames. As I awaken, the memory lingers. I am joyous. In the face of my reality and in spite of the whispers, I am hopeful. I know that, though I am merely a stone, I am a beginning. I jostle my neighbor, and wait for the wind.
Christine
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Reader Comments (9)
Wow....
That is amazing!!!
LOVE IT!
That was a very interesting read. Thanks for the post.
Happy SITS Saturday Sharefest
Wow. What a great writer you are! I am popping over from the SITS Saturday sharefest! I took a great picture today that would go so well with this post : ) If you email me I will send it to you! Hope your weekend is going fabulously!
Wow.. You know that shivery feeling you get when someone makes a really good performance?
I love it
Happy SITS day. What a beautiful peace of prose. I enjoyed your post on hazards of living in the country too...so true.
Thanks for stopping by my blog from SITS! Hope you have a great week.
There's something for you at my blog, by the way!
you is a good writah.
xoxo supah
I walk around, often, thinking what history will be saying about this time we're living in.
We think we're so modern and forward-thinking and so "advanced".
Yet, the "trees" are so deeply rooted and they are so afraid of saplings.
Society/We/The Trees can't see the forest for the, well, you know ...
Thanks for this. And thanks for visiting me today.
http://youmusttakeyourchance.blogspot.com/