The Tree

the tree amitaiasif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

“I will wait by the tree,”

She had said.

“At the fork where

The road

Meets the lush, green

Horizon.”

Wait she did,

Day again and again

And a month, and another.

Wait until they had come

Trudging home

From the war,

Wearing smiles, but

Carrying the weight

Of their sorrows

Around them.

 

 

 

For Becca Givens’ Sunday Trees

 

16 thoughts on “The Tree

    • Thank you, Dale.
      Yes. Some of my friends will never hug their sons again. Some of my family won’t, either. Others have watched their children return from wars changed in ways that no parent wants to ever witness in their child and that they may be helpless to fix, even with all the love they’ve waited to wrap around their offspring.
      A friend of mine is seeking help as we speak, for her son – and his mates – for the awfulness they had endured in war and terror.
      I cannot understand how any can abide by war. Let alone those who glorify it. There is naught but sorrow in it, in my experience, and while heroism often emerges, its potential does not justify the ugliness of war, or its futility. We’d do so much better as humans if we’d find ways to not feed profiteers or any others who gain from the pain of others.
      Did I mention I cannot stand war?
      Hugs
      Na’ama

  1. The trunk of this tree is very distinctive! Am surrounded by neighbors who are veterans of war, so I have heard many stories, there is the “waiting” side, but there is also the “coming home” side.

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