I am a storyteller. I love telling and hearing stories, especially stories that are based on a philosophical level. My favorite tree are aspens. Aspens are these tall, white trees that have knots. The knots look like eyes, and if you were to carve your name in an aspen it starts to look a scar. Aspens are neat. It reminds of God and how He is ever-watching and always there. This poem is supposed to feel ethereal. For me, it is easy to sit amongst aspens and feel God’s presence around me. Aspens enthrall me and I just HAD to write a poem about them.
Reaching high to the heavens,
Green and white shimmers in the celestial light,
There I stand.
Some will call them imperfections,
Others will note them as beautymarks.
I call them my eyes
The eyes that see truth –
A year pass away
A decade flutters away
A lifetime blink away –
Yet I still feel the scars.
The scars that I bore on the white bark
The scars that others have caused
The scars that tells a story –
A story of love, anguish, and a mark.
Sometimes it is a young person,
A young person, burdened with the world’s troubles,
And just wanted to be remembered.
Sometimes it is a couple in love,
A couple who desires for their love to never fade.
Sometimes it is an older person,
A person who have seen many years
And wanted to pass down wisdom.
Many have left, wandered away,
Never returning to see my scar.
Many have ran their fingertips on those faded ones,
Never knowing the emotions that coursed through the one’s body
How the Giver smiled, laughed gaily as barks were chipped away.
But I remain,
I remain in the place.
I still feel the emotion
I still remember them.
I could have been a comfort
I could have been a joy
Thus I will remain standing.
Who am I?