I am not sure what spared the tree or why it was still standing. Maybe after a chainsaw had been laid against the trunk, the machine gave up its ghost. Maybe a wannabe tree-feller grew tired, after he whacked his unsharpened ax at the bark of the pine. Either way, the tree stuck out to me as it stood there in heap of dead leaves at the edge of the path, with a large gash in its side, sap leaking from the open wound.
I walked over and inspected the poor thing. I could not help but gently touch the bark. I am not sure what came over me, but for a moment it felt like the hurt of the world had poured from this pine’s veins and had frozen on the way down the cracked trunk. If it would have made a difference (and if I would not have felt and looked like a fool), I would have consoled the tree with some words of encouragement. Maybe I would have told it that I was proud of it how it stood there, still reaching out toward heaven and, way up there, giving some tired bird a place to rest and let it sing its song.
But as it was, I didn’t speak. Instead, I shed some tears for the tree and the world … and went on my way.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
O God of my salvation
O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare your praise.
For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
Psalm 51:14-17
(text & pictures, Heidi Viars – 2024©)
Heidi Viars 
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