Wordless...Well, Maybe Not

The gift- and the curse- of good books and poetry is that it changes the way you view certain things. I blame The Lord of the Rings for the anthropomorphism I harbor for trees. Menacing or protective, all trees are living things that watch the world with silent eyes. Which may explain my gut-wrenching reaction as I saw a tree being uprooted- murdered- the other day. In the midst of the still and windless trees that lined the road, I saw one shaking wildly, trembling as though it was crying or in great pain. When I got closer, I saw that a bulldozer was knocking it over, and I drove by just at the moment her roots were ripped from the earth. The tree didn’t make a sound, though I knew it was screaming in pain and fear if I had only had ears to hear. It broke my heart. Tolkein, you bastard!

Sometimes people ask me how I am doing. I never know quite what to say. I hate going to the doctor and trying to explain. So many people suffer far worse than I do and at times the whole world seems to throb with pain like a hammered thumb. But that sounds a little crazy when you’re sitting in an anaseptic office across from a total stranger. My sister congratulates me that at least I’m sane enough to know when I’m sounding…or thinking…crazy.

When I was a school nurse, I had a little boy that came in almost every morning but would never speak a word. It took me a while to figure out that he was starving- for food among many other things. I think his pain was so great he was unable to speak.

There really aren’t appropriate words for pain. Those of us who hurt hesitate to speak because the words- the true words- are too heavy to come out of our mouths. Deep pain, be it physical or mental- feels impossible to convey.

When one has been through great pain, there is a secret language that can be read by others who have been through a similar burning. These ones who have made it through the fire, scarred forever, love you and hold your hand and watch you burn, for they know that is all they can do. As Wendell Berry says, “We burn and see by our own light.”

Love the ones who speak the less.

Comments

[Annie Neruda]

I love you. And of course trees are alive and watching and feeling. They're part of the magic.

[Edy]

Dear friend- in the same way that you saw through to that sweet child's pain and somehow made it easier (because that's who you are and what you do)- I pray that another touches your soul today and brings you a spark of joy.