January 19th, 2009

The Bare Arms of Trees

Sometimes when I see the bare arms of trees in the evening
I think of men who have died without love,
Of desolation and space between branch and branch,
I think of immovable whiteness and lean coldness and fear
And the terrible longing between people stretched apart as these
And the cold space between.
I think of the vastness and courage between this step and that step
Of the yearning and fear of the meeting, of the terrible desire
held apart.
I think of the ocean of longing that moves between land and land
And between people, the space and ocean.
The bare arms of the trees are immovable, without the play of
leaves, without the sound of wind;
I think of the unseen love and the unknown thoughts that exist
between tree and tree
As I pass these things in the evening, as I walk.

— John Tagliabue

1 Response to 'The Bare Arms of Trees'
Filed Under: Poetry
  1. Cellibelle remarks:


    Thank you. I love this poem. I cried. It captures the longing of the mystic and also the spirit of this moment of elation and maybe a hint of “being filled”, like the 4th Beatitude. I don’t know anyone who isn’t celebrating today, even Republicans!
    Thank you for this.

    January 20th, 2009 at 5:37 am

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