“It’s complicated,” I say, in describing my feelings for my father who passed away some 45 years ago. But then Fathers and Sons always have complicated relationships for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that they inevitably find themselves competing for the affections of the same woman. 45 years ago, when I first learned my father had pancreatic cancer and wouldn’t live to see his next birthday my miasmic feelings of anxiety, abandonment and sorrow quickly bubbled to the surface. And expressed themselves in the following poem…

There Stood A Tree

There stood a tree

thought stronger than the rest

maybe you remember

it fell some season past

its limbs would climb up to the heavens

while the trunk stayed firm to earth

and all the forest praised its beauty

thanking nature for its birth.

 

Yes, once there stood a tree

and for miles all had shade

and but for the gift

of one fragile leaf

a wiser world was made

and for the love of a forest

a legacy was sown

the fruit of which we won’t see now

least till the sapling’s grown.

 

Now the forest is a little darker

and the leaves fall just like tears

they remember that there stood a tree

that helped erase the fears

they recall how the tree would block the wind

and the sun’s harsh morning glare

they remember that there stood a tree

that is no longer there.

 

No, the wind can’t rustle its branches now

nor the rain wet any leaves

and where once there stood a tree

now lies a solemn grave

yet, still the stump stands proud

in the sun or autumn’s frost

and even winter’s snow can’t hide

just what the forest lost.

 

There stood a tree

and the tree didn’t die

It’s only less visible now

to the naked human eye

but if you cut beneath the earth

you’ll find the roots alive

there stands a tree

and only in that belief

can the forest survive.

 

Paul Steven Stone