Everything So Different and the Same

How pointlessly beautiful, a tree. How massive and calm and sometimes crushing and on fire. How a tree’s waving branches remind me of her hair that one afternoon, the breeze, the yellow shore. Everything so different and the same. How gentle, a tree. How full of knots and lumps and growths. How they press at her hospital window. How trees can’t cure cancer, but they still matter, and so maybe one day I can forgive myself for being as useless as they. How quiet, a tree. How peaceful. How they shade brides and graves alike. How, in ASL, the word for ‘tree’ looks like one arm trying to hold something close while the other waves goodbye.