In forest of snow laden trees, I think of nothing but the blossoms of a crab apple tree. Their color bleeds from each branch, like an open wound upon a white canvas. It seeps into muddled pages of my mind, twisting, spiraling, dissociating through pained thoughts. The petals of each bloom are fair, and I imagine a warm cheek, a flowering smile. A wind weaves through the frozen spring forest, letting chunks of snow fall from their perch to the ground. It wets the soil. It fills my lungs with the scent of damp earth, and my heart with the anchoring spread of roots. I hope this feeling would pass, but instead helplessly I fall, and I’ve never felt so scared.
Today I realized that I am nothing but a drop in an ocean of burning oil.
I am alone with the masses, all screaming,
“This is how it’s always been done.”
I feel nothing but love for my unborn children,
and the tears I wipe from their eyes.
I hear nothing but me saying…
“I’m sorry, this is how it’s always been done.”
In a forest of snow laden trees I felt as if I were a stranger.
This was my home. This hike had brought me such joy.
But yet, here I stand, staring at snow-capped mountains,
wondering why they feel so different.
In a forest of snow laden trees, tears begin to sting.
So many questions, so many things I don’t understand, so many places I wish I’d rather be. I was so angry. I am so human.
I poison the water we drink. I pollute the air we breathe. I destroy the land I love. And when my children ask why the ocean is buried in plastic, or why the mountains are smothered in smog I would tell them,
“I was just a drop…”
In a forest of snow laden trees I screamed for the answer. I wanted to fix what was so incredibly, painfully, broken.
My heart was torn, I felt so lost.
All I had was my single drop.
It was a glow pink petals that brought me back. I was shaken, but roots had me anchored. I started to feel warm again, just thinking of those flowers.
And to think, out of all the flowers in the world,
My hope is seeded in a simple crab apple tree,
Blooming in the spring.
A warm cheek.
A flowering smile…
I am not alone. And neither are you.
Suddenly, we are more than just a drop. What I love so dearly, what we love so dearly, can be saved.
and the way it’s always been done
is not the way it will always be.