Now I see the bows and arrows, the catapults and vital purpose, the myriad possibilities.
Now the leaves have fallen,
revealing the curvatures and tangled complexities of the paradox tree.
Its nature is to bend
and bring buds and branches
into the service of animals and humanity.
A fine line between use and service,
love and peace, war and hate.
Between giving up and sacrifice. Between nest and shelter.
Dendrites make mathematical patterns, coaxing blue from pale
winter skies. They shield satellite-marked houses from each
other’s sight, blind eyes with lances and separate with fences.
Now gather in baskets the nodes of divine life,
and burn your weapons around campfires,
singing and strumming guitars, drumming up unity.
I see the hardening lignin,
the pulsating sap within,
the parts dividing and the wholeness,
in stages: a signpost, a railway sleeper,
a vision song, a messenger with open arms.
Sam Burcher
http://www.samburcher.com/home.html
Illustration: Claire Palmer
.