Beautiful, Tree

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What is the story
you have to tell,
what are the moments
of your life
carved onto your skin
and bone?
Tall you stand,
a totem,
a witness to our age,
how much of us
do you mirror,
as you try to give
all of yourself
to a world
that has forgotten you?
The tears, the stains,
the marks of time,
the sinewy curves,
the shades
impossible to be
replicated. Your beauty.
Your beauty,
The shape of loss,
the presence of life
folding in, growing tall.
What of myself
Am I trying to find in you?
How much do you
have to do alone, now,
because you’ve been
severed at the root
from so many of your
brothers and sisters?
I see a topography,
an archeology,
an entire world
as I look at you,
but maybe I don’t need
to reach so far.
Maybe I just need
to close my eyes,
and wrap my arms around you,
or sit, my back
to your long body,
and feel this moment
that is sun and rain,
that is dawn and midnight,
our stake in this world,
that is always
both here and forever.

– Tammy Takahashi

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