Green Dream

This poem is based on a recurring dream, wherein I become one with the forest and listen to their long slow song about life, death, and rebirth in the wonder of spring. I have dreamed of becoming a tree and reaching from the cool depths of forest soil to the majesty of the grand forest canopy. To live so long that seasons are like days and to remember when the world was young.


If the trees sing to each other of the memories of days past, they must feel sadness at the way they've been used and abused. The toxins in the air and water, the acid rains, the burning of less-filtered sunlight, and the loss of vast forests worldwide could destroy their spirit and silence even the whispers. Whispers I swear I still hear when I walk through a forest glade where ancient first growth trees still survive. Maybe it just my over-active imagination, but I want to believe that any life so long lived must be aware.


Mick


Green Dream


I dreamed I woke in a cathedral green,
And walked alone amidst the giant trees.
Whispers touched my ears from voices unseen;
The weight of their watching weakened my knees,
And I felt them considering my worth.


Sunlight, filtered to a yellow-green haze,
Flickered and danced on the soft forest floor.
Entranced, I stood for what may have been days,
But, was certainly an hour or more;
The most complete peace I've felt since my birth.


Suddenly, a great silence descended,
And the only sound was my beating heart.
The air was still and the whispers ended;
I felt my physical self come apart,
As I welcomed a joining with the earth.


My arms and my fingers stretched towards the sun;
My feet and toes reached down, into the soil;
My legs were now fused together as one,
And I felt all my hair stretch and uncoil,
As I reveled, I sensed a wave of mirth.


The laughter of trees, a sound to behold,
From voices so deep and cavernous fair,
Became a song both incredibly old,
And reverberated everywhere.
It felt as though it encircled the Earth.


It sang of memories of clean fresh air.
Of drinking deep waters both cold and pure.
Sunlight caressing its canopy fair,
Of winter and summer a cycle sure,
And adding new rings to increase its girth.


Then I felt the giants focus on me.
The shadow of their despair had grown strong;
Their voices grew sad and melancholy,
And then the song faltered, something was wrong --
For of all these things there was now a dearth.


Their ghostly images flooded my mind,
And sadness over vast forests now gone.
In my dream, I was again humankind,
But my heart was as heavy as a stone,
Despite my green communion and re-birth.


In the still quiet morning, shadows long,
I still walk though the forest damps and dews,
And I listen for the sad forest song;
Always wishing that I had better news,
To justify their judgement of my worth.


Mick McKellar
June 2011