Sunday, May 09, 2010

May 9th

A wonderful thing, a tree. How it breathes, how it takes in that breath again and changes it to bark, leaves, branches. How it lasts, outlives us all, feels into the ground and binds it to the air. No wonder, in our primitive shamanic states, we cling to it and used is as a pathway, linking one kingdom to the next. Ydrasil. Banyan. The Bleeding Yew. The pollarded trees of a park I knew -their upper parts beheaded with a Stuart queen. Often I imagine nestling in a bole, or digging down and finding myself in a labyrinth of roots and finding there a dark land with reddened sky. May 9th. Your birthday. I remember you and think of trees, and how a small part of you is locked within them, as we all are.


Blogger aliholli said...

I have just re-read your post of May 06 with the photo of the silver birch sapling. I expect it is a decent size now. What lovely words and what a lovely way to remember Huw. Hugs xx

Sat May 15, 12:20:00 a.m.  
Blogger Clare Dudman said...

Thanks, Ali. Yes, trees are good - an excellent way to remember someone, I think.

Sat May 15, 10:47:00 a.m.  

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