“Old as the hills”
or so they say,
the Tremble Tree stands.
Upright and proud,
at least at first glance
Branch arms stretched down
Lacey fingers gently brushing the ground
Ready to envelope the next
Passerby in need of Her embrace
Unlike the sad story of the tree
that gave everything,
even life,
Old Tremble Tree never gives,
only takes.
She absorbs the sadness,
the tears,
the trembles,
and fears
Now Tremble has witnessed generations
come and go.
Very different each,
yet much the same.
In my youth
I rested against Her trunk.
Tears streaming,
words lost.
She wrapped me in those wooden arms
and held tight until
I could breathe again.
When the tears poured
and the cries rose
and the trembles took over,
She was there.
Nothing beautiful to
look at really.
No flowers
No fruit
No birds nesting high.
Old Tremble knows her purpose,
knows Her place.
But only those in Her care
know Her value.
She asks no questions
when one pours out her heart,
Or husband speaks of dying wife,
Or young man begs for
relief from his demons.
She listens as stories are told,
very few with moments of joy,
and She bends even closer to
those below
and She takes.
Left at Her feet are the sorrows,
The sadness,
The loss,
and the tears.
Travelers in life come to
trust Her.
They’ve seen Her power
Her strength to hold more than
Her share.
No magic tricks,
No wizardry,
Just roots planted firmly,
Arms outstretched,
and open…
Waiting until
She’s needed.
Once She’s taken and
the travelers are on their way,
again She stands upright,
appearing strong… to most.
Waiting for the next story,
The next heartbreak,
The next uncontrollable tearfall.
They speak of Her strength,
Her ability to withstand much pain
and sorrow,
Her ability to weather all storms,
real or imagined.
But if one watches closely
Over time
You will see.
For Old Tremble Tree,
even with roots long and wide,
is only that…
A tree.
She grew as high as
She could,
Stands as tall as
She can,
and holds as much as
Her body will allow.
And if you’re watching
during the next storm…
As the rain pours down,
She cries for those crying.
As the winds whip
Through the countryside,
She trembles for those trembling.
And if the burdens are too great,
She breaks for those broken.
Will you be watching?
Will you notice?
Tori Burris Inkley
5/19/24
