BEHIND ANY SILENCE YOU HAVE HEARD
Different trees grow various heights and then
perish and evolve into another species.
They reach their limbs – their souls – a little
deeper into incandescence’s well
and then tell the world by their marvelous
appearance what life is like.
Yes, try to do that before you depart this
wondrous place we are visiting;
bring us some good tidings of silence beyond
and silence you have already heard.
Hafiz, as rendered by Daniel Ladinsky
A Year with Hafiz: April 29
This selection felt like a lovely follow-up from last week’s poem, Aunt Leaf, by Mary Oliver. Coming across it on April 29, my margin note reads: “This is exquisite. This is my knowing of trees, especially our beloved Laurel Leaf Willow, gone now two years.” Both poems spoke to me of that “before, beneath, beyond words” knowing we have with trees, and the other “more than human” beings.
It’s been a tough week. I’ll leave it at that for now. Yet as the miracle of spring explodes with Alberta’s record breaking heat – not a good thing given how dry, with province-wide fire bans and daily evacuations due to grass fires – I once again find myself in awe with and comforted by the silent beauty, graciousness and grandeur of trees. This quote from patron saint Catherine of Siena a fitting sign off for today:
All has been consecrated
The creatures in the forest know this,
the earth does, the seas do, the clouds know
as does the heart full of
Strange a priest would rob us of this
and empower himself
with the ability
to make holy what
already, always was.
Much love and kindest regards, dear friends.