The trees have hope…
I know, because I asked them about their lament
for their sisters and brothers
torn down in the Amazon.
I asked the trees about their lament
and they struck me dumb.

They struck me dumb
with their towering glory,
their sheer age;
wild resilience
silencing me
in
an instant.

The trees have hope;
Just look at the leaves
that Mary Oliver spectacularly failed to count.(1)
Look at the branches
Reaching up into the sky,
silhouetting the view
Bearing birds, squirrels, bugs, lichen
Nonchalantly flexing in the wind.

The trees have hope;
leaves and sap
roots and fungal connections;
light flowing between and beyond
the microcosm and the macrocosm
All made
Of hope

So go to your activism,
But know it will never
All Depend On You.
The trees have hope
Their roots are deep, deep, deep
and their branches reach high, high, high to the sky
and are stronger than we can know
The trees have hope
And they will outlive us.

This poem was seeded in the hospitable silences of the Contemplative Fire community and of Quaker worship at Greenbelt Festival 2025. The time for sharing has arrived now.

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