After the Massacre
'The real point of the contemplative life has always been a deepening of faith so that our union with God is experienced.' Thomas Merton
Close to the ground
there is darkness.
Deep shadows
fill the spaces,
trunk to trunk.
They cling,
spread wide roots,
hold on,
resist
the savage pull
of night;
but higher geese
shout praise
as brightness lifts
their strong wings.
Trees nod,
and raise high branches
to faithful God,
positive flame
making bright
hidden day.
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
Samuel Gardner
I who kept the greenhouse,
Lover of trees and flowers,
Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm,
Measuring its generous branches with my eye,
And listened to its rejoicing leaves
Lovingly patting each other
With sweet aeolian whispers.
And well they might:
For the roots had grown so wide and deep
That the soil of the hill could not withhold
Aught of its virtue, enriched by rain,
And warmed by the sun;
But yielded it all to the thrifty roots,
Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk,
And thence to the branches, and into the leaves,
Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang.
Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can see
That the branches of a tree
Spread no wider than its roots.
And how shall the soul of a man
Be larger than the life he has lived?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Women trees
The hidden flowers of the trees
In their bud breasts
Waiting their colored blooming
In cups
On their old branches
The moss growing on the trunk
Like green thighs
On their very thin old cracked crust
With swelling whitish scattered areolae,
Buzzing bee in their tree honeycomb
Like a voice of the heart letting out its sorrow
Aerating their roots with softer mysteries
Growing up above the ground
Their knee roots allowing the inflow of life
To the fibres
Those trees
Like wooden women statues.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Sonnet: On Separation
Which tree forever stays with leaves same, old?
Its branches, roots and trunk-size, changing keep;
It has its days of silver and of gold;
The crown and roots keep spreading, wide and deep.
The fruits it bears do vary in their size;
And number, taste that age and seasons make;
It has a period when it stands so nice;
The gnawing environs, its life does take.
Yet, people praise the tree in fruition stage!
And curse it when adverse conditions strike;
Nevertheless, none can prevent it age;
Men too are treated by this world alike.
All through his life, man too can't be the same;
Why praise the rising Sun, yet Sun-set blame?
poem by John Celes
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No Tree Can Stand Tall Without Roots Spread!
Every seed sends roots first,
Finding for soil and ground
where it can stand firm and tall,
stand firm and tall if roots go
deep,
Spread wide to find The sap! single cell that carry life,
Give life to cells and tissues,
Shoot, barks, branches and
leaves,
feed the leaves exposing leaves
to light, Visible tree stands on exposed
roots, not roots visible, Man made boundaries, fence and
compound,
Can't prevent or limit roots or
branches,
Sometimes absorbing soil here,
Branch will extent to neighbouring house,
How one can limit the nature,
or confine growing tree to
narrow circle drawn by man?
So is every life on Earth!
Mankind is like forest of different trees,
Yet all roots of autotrophic trees
deep in the soil,
Only parasitic have those roots,
pierce other tree's heart! Dive deep into yourself,
O man! Can you survive without
Your roots?
know how you are here,
Is it the mortal parent brought
you here, Or your fate,
Only be grateful to their love and
care forever!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Neglect not meditation
Do exercise; Branches are strong.
Do hatha yoga; Trunk is strong.
Do breathing; Root is strong.
Branch-less, trunk-less,
By root alone too can live a tree.
11.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Prepare the Ground
'When man is grounded in authentic truth and love, the roots of desire themselves wither, brokenness is at an end, and truth is found in the wholeness and simplicity of Nirvana: perfect awareness and perfect compassion.' Thomas Merton, Zen and the Birds of Appetite
Prepare the ground.
Begin with new earth
and mix my baser soil
with falling rain.
Find illicit weeds
and by their roots extract
vain desire.
Raise higher
your righteous flame
and make ready the land
for summer's living
grain.
poem by Steven Federle
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Labour — Capital — Land
IN that rich Archipelago of sea
With fiery hills, thick woods wherein the mias
Browses along the trees, and god-like men
Leave monuments of speech too large for us,
There are strange forest-trees. Far up, their roots
Spread from the central trunk, and settle down
Deep in the life-fed earth, seventy feet below.
In the past days here grew another tree,
On whose high fork the parasitic seed
Fell and sprang up, and finding life and strength
In the disease, decrepitude and death
Of that it fed on, utterly consumed it,
And stands the monument of Nature's crime!
So Labour with his parasites, the two
Great swollen Robbers, Land and Capital,
Stands to the gaze of men but as a heap
Of rotted dust whose only use must be
To rich the roots of the proud stem that killed it!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Shout It
Not on this stage to take up space I'm here to communicate face to face
I'll hold my head up high and shout it look you in the eye and shout it
hold my head up high shout it look you in the eye and shout it
criticized for speaking out I guess you don't know what we're about
so I'll hold my head up high and shout its look you in the eye shout it
hold my head up high shout it look you in the eye and shout it
we're just some friends who want to be heard through out music we'll spread our word
trying our best to figure what life is about seeing the good makes me want to shout
shout it there's nothing wrong with saying my part the message I cry is from the heart
won't change my ideas just to please you you've built the walls we're breaking through
song performed by by Youth Of Today
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blooming Love Tree
Our roots are deeply anchored
in the unmovable love's soil,
We grew together, and the blizzards of life could not destroy our embrace,
The sharp frost could not freeze our tears,
and the deep, rough, hateful cuts could not take away our smiles.
Whispers of love feed our branches and leaves,
and we drink daily from the sap of endless passion.
Sun breathes on our one-trunk,
warmth and light,
Under its caressing, we dance a silent old tango,
forgetting all the past seasons,
keeping only the good memories and dreaming of the new Spring.
We extend our branches as hands in prayers toward heaven,
We touch angels' wings each night and sing,
with the stars, a song of gratitude.
We bloom heart-shaped love red flowers because
our roots are deeply anchored in the unmovable love's soil.
poem by Marius Alexandru
Submitted by Marius Alexandru
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The First Day
'The new man lives in a world that is always being created and renewed.' Thomas Merton,
rows of vines
tangled, waking, alive
converge to the point
of vanishing, to the blue haze
where this lush mountain,
rain blessed, gracefully lifts
the deepening dawn
to where you wait
in the thin veils
of day.
poem by Steven Federle
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Girl Under The Weeping Willow Tree (Oasis)
Almost
Softly
touching the ground.
The weeping willow branch
gracefully bends,
calm
and peaceful.
A cascading
oasis
for the girl
nestled beneath
her branches.
Strong is the trunk
on which she leans.
Solid
and
faithful,
on that
she can
depend.
She gazes out
at the beautiful waters
of the lake
surrounding her
and a hue of orange
from the setting sun
on the waters
captures her eye.
Peace.
Strength.
Calm serenity.
Joy.
She desires
these good gifts
from the Lord.
And she knows
He is faithful.
And she smiles.
poem by Julie A Smith
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Sonnet: Roots Matter
Look, how the cut branches and leaves get dried!
Sometimes, this happens when the Sun's too hot;
With roots intact, the trunk sprouts from its side;
The tree uprooted sure to death is fraught.
Look, how the trunk has sprouted green again!
The tree has started growing with revenge;
Almost a miracle is done by rain;
But this is how Nature tries to avenge.
Our Body, mind draw nourishment from soul;
Our soul if pure is habitat for God;
If not, the evil spirits take this role;
A sinful soul in Heaven would look odd?
Good roots matter if habits good flourish;
God's grace matters for Man's soul to nourish.
poem by John Celes
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936. Mother, grant me more and more faith. 160408
Mother, grant me more and more faith
Though misfortune chases me till death.
Faith is never experienced in lucky days,
But it comes when I tread fateful ways.
When on lucky peak climbing so high,
People talk heartily about faith and joy!
Mother You teach me the real meaning
Of faith in gloomy life with no blooming!
Though You shut me in dark room;
Though You beat me by ugly broom;
I have none other than You to cling upon.
Faith on You is enough to go on and on!
Let each of my step stumble on sorrow;
I gain vigor again from faith the marrow.
Your names chanted with flowing tears,
Stretch faith roots that my heart bears! 160498
poem by Raman Savithiri
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Liturgy is like a strong tree whose beauty is derived from the continuous renewal of its leaves, but whose strength comes from the old trunk, with solid roots in the ground.
quote by Pope Paul VI
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marula tree trunk
Strong winds blow against the Marula tree trunk,
They come with miscellaneous objects,
Light and heavy,
And use them to break the Marula tree trunk,
But nothing happens to the Marula tree trunk,
Light and heavy rains come,
The Marula tree smiles,
For the plentiful rain water will make
It stronger and taller,
Animals come and sleep under and on top
Of the Marula tree,
Lean and rub their itching bodies
Against the Marula tree trunk,
Relieve themselves against it,
But nothing happens to the Marula tree trunk,
The human race use the Marula tree for shade
Against the merciless summer heat of the Limpopo sun,
And eat or make beer with Marula,
But, alas! One vicious human being returned,
And chopped it,
Off goes the faithless Marula tree trunk,
To be scorched by the everlasting home burning fires.
poem by Niki Nicholas Nkuna
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Natures gift
In our hands we have a world of green
So much unknown so much unseen
As thickly woven around as its mysterious ravines
All of this life in a small bean
As serene as dusk as bright as dawn
In its early life as small as a fawn
But as the time goes on and on
It develops thick branches and a trunk with great brawn
Sometimes green sometimes pale
Sometimes flies away in a gale
Sometimes in a storm it flails
And sometimes the delicate life can sail
The lyrical sound better than a lute
Even when the conditions don't suit
This life, the gold, the larger loot
It sticks strong to the ground with thick branching roots
Like a blessing that never ends
We get gifts every time there's a holiday
But no matter how much we spend
Nature gives gifts on every day in every way
poem by Logan Fulk
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The Living God
There is no death with Thee! each plant and tree
In living haste their stems push onward still,
The pointed blade, each rooted trunk we see
In various movement all attest thy will;
The vine must die when its long race is run,
The tree must fall when it no more can rise;
The worm has at its root his task begun,
And hour by hour his steady labor plies;
Nor man can pause but in thy will must grow,
And, as his roots within more deep extend,
He shall o'er sons of sons his branches throw,
And to the latest born his shadows lend;
Nor know in thee disease nor length of days,
But lift his head forever in thy praise.
poem by Jones Very
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For the Sleepwalkers
Tonight I want to say something wonderful
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible
arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.
I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,
palming the blank spaces, touching everything.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.
And always they wake up as themselves again.
That's why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.
Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs
flying through the trees at night, soaking up
the darkest beams of moonlight, the music
of owls, the motion of wind-torn branches.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.
We have to learn to trust our hearts like that.
We have to learn the desperate faith of sleep-
walkers who rise out of their calm beds
and walk through the skin of another life.
We have to drink the stupefying cup of darkness
and wake up to ourselves, nourished and surprised.
poem by Edward Hirsch
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The lasting memory.....
ages has witness, the memories of time;
emulate the power of unforgivable happening
stages of life, as it venture the journey that
never come again in every step made
the cooled Siberian moist capture the
hyacinth of the skin, hurry to wait the breezing
air of the heart; each wrinkle the facial dew of
what then the soul reunited in your calling
fascination of reality bestowed
compassion return as what was remember
the evergreen of the sunlight hallucination of
fate, waited to past the haiku of stream in
your coming age, lay down all the card and
disguise your anticipation that everything has
to follow the nature flow
let, each branches fall with the trunk and
leave each leaf touches to the ground, the dirt
has something to say; as a dreaming call,
walk in an abode of shooting star, the night
become the moment of asteroid window of the
future
nay! make me to lay with the branches stay in
the ground without a trunk, my heyday is nothing
but a vague vacuum of me.......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Entangled Flames
Darkness opened his trunk to pull out solitude
Laying it thick, blinding possibilities and warding off love
Nimble feet as they are, possibilities come tip-toeing back
Dragging quaint love on stockinged feet, hush around fires
Vigilant reason raises his unsure hood, looking lost
It must be a bit of the lurking yearning that cant hold down
Quizzed and perhaps a bit tired, reason knows little else
Holding on fast, chained from the opened trunk
Don't kill it, prays mystery from her cloister,
On fingers clenched over beads of dormant desires
This could be it, she could be the one, thought a future
But the chains steel in, because reason knows many ugly heads
That's the limbo for now, where nothing stands on tiptoes too
Poised over sweetness that perhaps may never be had
That's life tossing around, coming circles from hidden roads
Drawing impossibilities together from entangled flames …
poem by Bindu Vijayan
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