They buried me deep to prohibit the evil from returning. Long held superstitious beliefs still ruled the minds of many people. The cool damp earth heavily covered every inch of my body. I felt nothing as shovels of dirt hit my face, my eyes open wide and vacantly staring at the sky above. Dust and mud filled every crevasse of my skin. Soon the darkness completely overtook me and there was no more.
The little seed had long lay undisturbed, wedged between two stones deep within the earth. Now as my body melted into an unrecognizable pile of rotting flesh the dust became damp and permeated with the squalid and putrid smell forming a muddy mixture. The oozing moisture from the decaying flesh began to bleed into the surrounding dirt and covered the little seed in life-giving moisture. In that moment, deep in the silence, life began to stir.
Breaking through the shell and hard outer husk a small white tendril began to slowly struggle upward in the dark. Drawn by an instinct that upward was were there was a place that light existed. The small shoot of living mass passed through my stomach which was now an unrecognizable mixture of internal organs, flesh and earth, weaving its way through the bones of my ribs. Its quest for life seemed to direct it away from the poisons secreted by my decaying liver and kidneys. The multitude of enzymes and proteins from my rotting flesh feed the small seed’s every growing need.
Growing stronger and bigger the long white shoot became a missile as it continued upward through the dark soil. Like an albino snake it inched its way towards the surface around obstacles and powering through the damp earth. After many days, that seemed like forever in the dark, a small white shoot broke through the hard crust of the earth. Protruding upward the small spike of a living plant was overcome by the bright light.
The warmth and power of the sun was overwhelming. Immediately a metamorphosis began to occur. The little white sprout began to synthesize and the color of green began to grow into the small wisps of the upstart life. Steadily the years passed; as rains came down saturating the ground followed by sunshine that gave warmth, silently encouraging continued growth. Stronger and stronger it became, resilient to the cold winters, the restless winds and the myriad of enemies that sought its destruction.
Ever up towards the blue of the sky it grew its branches extending as if sniffing the smells carried on the winds. The pine needles rustled in the breeze creating a symphony of sounds no orchestra could match. The trunk became full and strong, the roots burying themselves deep into the soil, past my long forgotten corpse.
The sun circled lazily through the sky day after day and time moved on as it is want to do. One bright late spring day a young girl and her father stopped to rest in the shade cast by the trees long velvet green branches. They had been walking enjoying the warmth of the sun on their skin and now they sat down in the cool shade, as a faint smell of pine scent wafted in the air about them.
“Daddy, how long do you think this tree has been here?” she asked looking up into the enormous canopy over their heads.
Her father paused, looking up also and replied, “Oh honey, I am sure a long, long time. A tree this huge takes a lot of years to grow this big. You know it started from just one small seed, smaller than the end of your little finger and it was in the right spot at just the right time.”
The little girl lay back in the shade of the mighty tree smiling and looked up into the tangle of branches of gently swaying pine needles reveling in the quiet. She watched as a small bird seemingly unconcerned hopped from branch to branch. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches as her father felt his heart swell with love for his little girl. They sat together remaining silent in the midst of the circle of life that revolved around them.
~Mark Schutter ©2015
The above writing was began during a free-write session of our workplace writing group with the prompt to write about a tree and use the physical senses throughout. I did not have time to finish during the session but already had the ending in mind so I went back and finished it with some editing. What do you think?
Love is the touch of her skin to yours
Love is her emotions in sync with yours
Love is your tears bring hers
Love is her smile brings yours
Love is the lingering taste of her lips on yours after a kiss
Love is her passionate embrace and the elation you get from it
Love is the joy you get when her smell lingers after such an embrace
Love is her
Love is what i’m in
~Max Smith ©2015
A great post by Max from my work writing group in response to the challenge to write a poem of 10 lines with the word love in every line. You can view this poem also on Max’s blog which he titled Love Eternal, be sure to give him a follow and support. Great job Max!
a single grain of sand along the seashore,
a single leaf waving gently on an oak tree,
a single blade of grass in a field of green.
One among millions,
On the fringe,
of shadows dark.
We hide our identity,
as the world passes by.
In fear we live;
of standing out,
of blending in.
There are those who seek our demise;
to quell our dreams;
leaving us alone and
Love is a weapon
Love is a savior
Where does love start?
In the beginning love
Without self love, empty
A soul lost, rudderless
Love brings me back
~Francine Gagne ©2015
Yet, another poetry submission from the recent challenge to my work writing group. 10 lines with the word love in every line. I am surrounded by talented people. Great job Francine!
35 years ago on May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helen’s in Washington State erupted repeatedly, sending turbulent slurries of fiery hot ash moving at hurricane speeds to the north. As the gas escaped, the particles fell and sorted into courser and finer particles. Such eruptions, called pyroclastic flows are extremely dangerous.
The middles section in the photo shows the layering that resulted. In just three hours, 25 feet of organized material was laid down over the May 18th deposit (at least 200 layers). These layers resemble the Tapeats Sandstone layers at the Grand Canyon (above right) which, by scientific evolutionary estimates, took millions of years to form. The monumentally epic eruption of Mount St. Helen’s in 1980 has been said to seriously challenge that time frame.
So why couldn’t an all-powerful God be able to do this, and defy our attempts to categorize Him in a box. Is there anything that would be to hard for Him?
“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. ~Isaiah 55:8
I have had some people say to me that my writing’s sometimes seem to have an element of darkness. Even outright asking me why.
So why do I often write from this perspective? I offer this simplest of explanations.
I write what I know; what I have lived and my own search for hope. It is my truth.
And yet I wonder do these people who ask these questions, actually read to the end? I doubt it. For if they did they might actually realize that I try mightily to offer some hope, however faint, to others that might also be suffering. I sometimes fail as the dark over takes me and yet …
It is in the darkness where light shines the brightest and is most visible. It is there in the midst of pain and sorrow where healing and hope is most needed. So, as I tell my tales of pain; may they also resound with hope and redemption, no matter how small to hopefully encourage others.
I believe that the light will continue to shine, forever unafraid of the dark.
Hope is no small thing!
#JustBelieve #GraceWins #HopeLives