Prone and Pressed ; a testament to my husband

Have I lain here just a moment or all of the moments since I came to be

And if I were to count them,  how many those moments?

Prone and pressed into the warmth of the earth beneath

My eyes wide open to the spangled light above

Our roots running, tangled , deep

The willing captured audience of these trees

I am Silent in knowing what they hold

I Listen;

Listen to rustled whispers of their truth

They speak

Of tumultuous storm, flood and fire and of death

They speak

Of the fierce struggle for each to stand tall and thrive

THEIR FEARS

They speak

Of life and growth, sun and seeds

Of the beautiful music of moving in unison on the breeze

Of the peace of standing side by side in the stillness

THEIR HOPES

They speak

I listen; Listen to rustled whispers of YOUR truth

Prone and pressed into the warmth of the earth beneath

My eyes wide open to the spangled light ahead

I  shed my hopeful tears to YOU

In gratitude for what I hear

They  Listen;

It is because they listen I am not afraid to speak

these soft whispers of MY own truth

I  speak

Of expectations and letting go

Of children’s struggles

Of self doubt, loneliness, disease

And death

MY FEARS

I speak

Of long futures, bright dreams and courage

Of the promise and pride in our partnership

Of children

Of Peace through love and learning

MY HOPES

I speak

You listen; to the not always soft whispers of My truth

Prone and pressed into the warmth of the earth beneath

We are these trees, you and I

Our roots running , tangled , deep

Held in the spangled light from above

Willing captives in this beautiful immense forest of life

We listen

And I am not afraid