This week for Becca’s Sunday Trees photo feature, I bring you one with many layers to her.
An impressive tree, I think, a mango tree perhaps. If so she would have been stoned, prodded and climbed all over the entire long summer. But undaunted, unconcerned she has continued her journey to reach for the sky.
I come closer. She allows a money plant to drape her like a scarf, even allow a lamp to rest on her curves.
Hey wait! That’s no drapery – it’s growing out of her. Just another surrogate mother for one who is not even her kind. My kind? she asks. What’s that? All life is my kind.
Just look at those wounds and scars. Don’t they hurt? I ask. No she shakes her branches.
Liar. I choke on tears as I walk over to the other side. Her silent howl of despair unheard in this vast preoccupied universe.
Stories and more 