Wounds Transformed
the arms of the old cedar invited her once more into its shelter
the small bare feet are cradled by the now worn, smooth bark cups
where the branches meet the heart of the tree
each hand and foot -hold are a familiar path
leading to safety, leading to solitude, leading to security
here she is held
here she is safe
here she is understood
she came to her mother many times with her hurts and sorrows
“Go find a bottle and see how many tears you can get in it!”
The tears won’t go in the bottle
they run down her face and dissolve
she can’t even go to her with her bottle of tears
she cannot go to her
she goes to her cedar haven and learns that the bark
becomes more fragrant absorbing her salty tears
here her tears are soaked in, held and loved
never turned away, never judged
solid, permanent, strong, constant
her tree becomes softer as she reaches the top
the strong arms of its base turn into delicate young fingers
the light filters in like lace on her skin
the branches surrender to her slight weight
the wind rocks her in an inconsistent rhythm
bending, bobbing, flowing, diving
she dares to go higher, testing her fear,
there is more movement here, more tension, more life, more growth
will she always be embraced here
or will her cedar crack from her inconsiderate advances
she learns her limits
she learns respect
she learns how to care for the tender new fronds
that push out with frothy new greenness
when they are caressed they release their fragrant oil
when they are abused they lose their life and turn to brittle gold
the girl comes down from her tree when her father returns from his frequent trips
his arms are as solid as the cedar
his chest is broad, firm and soft
when she presses her ear against it
the words of the story he is reading
disappear into the rumbling vibration of his deep, rich voice
she is cradled
their connection is unspoken
it is held by a delicate thread of reciprocal movements
compassionate energy
when the mother hurts him
she aches at his raw sensitivity to her harshness
she knows him
he senses her
it is the most exquisite gift
she is a small shadow of him
she sits on the end of the log he is sawing
darts to pick up the flying kindling that is being split
as he bends over his vegetable rows
his repetitive hoeing uncovers the new potatoes, thick carrots, brilliant beets
she helps to gather this harvest
the aroma of the minty rich earth becomes a scent that will sooth her
it becomes a resource to that allows her to sense in to peace
this little girl does not know that she carries the wounds of rejection
or the gifts of connectedness
the wounds have been deepened and confirmed by subsequent harsh relationships
her walls were built higher, thicker
jagged glass jutting from top to keep her safe
she peered from behind the walls stepping out briefly to search for that connection
but she did not know how to dance with the balance of leading
and allowing herself to be lead
experiencing that unwavering trust of a partner who would hold her
no matter how awkward her steps were
and holding her partner in that same delicate and steady embrace
her safe place was away and isolated
safe but alone
safe without true joy
safe without true sorrow
safe without strong connection
safe without belonging
Now the girl is 60
I sit beneath a cedar tree
knowing that the strong root system that lies beneath me
connects to every branch that shapes this exquisite tree
like the layers of years that have shaped my life
I have been able to look back
to connect how my roots have affected the growth of my branches
the scars of the wounds are still held in every ring that is my trunk and core
but instead of them forming distortions and a thicker bark
they are softened by my understanding and willingness to be vulnerable
I will struggle with keeping myself open forever
the struggle of this awkward dance is becoming more fluid and familiar
it comes with the flow of movement that is
created and crafted
offered and accepted
held and challenged
questioned and answered
with a voice that is heard and listened to
with a heart that pauses to pay attention to the delicate needs of myself and others
this dance allows me to connect and honor every part of myself
to bring me closer to others
through harmony, balance and awareness
my mind is not so afraid to listen to the messages that my body is giving me
the flow between mind-body-heart and spirit
brings a rich connection that accepts old injuries and nurtures new growth
there is gratitude in my heart for the wounds that have brought me to this place
wounds transformed