The tree of Life
There stands an old, big tree
in the middle of what I have called my life
The long branches reaches
far into me
and green leaves tickles
on the edges of my mind
The tree’s origin has been torn away a long time ago
but I am often
reminded of this seed
and of not to forget it
Nevertheless I get lost in my self
until my eyes reflect
in wet dew-pearls
on old bark,
and I remember where I come from
and I know deep inside where I once
was headed and why I got lost
No wounds in the bark are
too deep
for the searching healing
of warm thoughts
and the tree grows every day,
changes me slowly,
while the leaves rustle
and whisper a silent prayer
that the Tree of Life must remain
alive in my thoughts
~Ingvild Gregersen / Dochas
Copyright © 1996 Ingvild Gregersen
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