That Special ‘ Tree’
by stein forster
Often, when a homeless person approaches, a fear rises, like rigid hair at a kids fair.
Not all the time I know. But often. Some have open hearts and many do not. That’s ok.
But just watch yourself next time you walk the streets. Just observe your responses.
We all have our peculiar symbols of fear.
A goatie. A tatt. A meandering eye attack.
And what do many of us do?
Look down to the ground? Remind him of his fathers sound?
Look away to a wall? That reminds him of his war?
Look straight into his eyes with a tensioned stand off demise?
It’s human I know. My kids show me, tell me their fear. Yet like all fear it is born from not knowing. Not knowing what’s on the other side. Thinking we know what’s on this ( his ) side. This side because you’ve seen the fights. Heard the screams. Been frightened maybe by his depleted self esteem. Heard the language, the tone. The primal scream a saddening drone.
There’s an equation in your head.
Engage : risk + unknown = assumed fear.
Avoid : low risk + ‘known’ = momentary uncomfortableness
Yet, on your own…..
…..you see a tortured tree and wish to speak to thee.
What was its demise? A fire? A disease? Nutrients?
But there’s a life in its strife.
A spark in its dark. Texture and angles perform art especially after dark.
When your moon paints it’s glow way beyond the meadow. The shadow speaks to you and you feel a sunlit yellow.
Wondrous how a tree can speak.
Create stories in your mind. Glimpses with a camera and your time can be shared and shine. Maybe on your wall, at home for all to see. You gloat about that night when you felt that special tree.
A glass or two of red and your settled feelin’ good. One moment you expressed yourself and your friends stopped eating – stood.
Now imagine that ” fearful ” dude. Sitting at the table.
Eyes of warmth and love
Just grateful to be able.
And yes you can still have your photo of that special tree.