Living Tree Poetry

There is a way
the sea holds the shore.
One would think the solid,
apparently insurmountable thing
contained the greater strength.

But there is a way
the sea comes in
constant and sure,
moving its body of weight
to mould itself
against the cliff’s sheer edge,
undeterred,

that its hard face softens
over time
from rock to sand.


There is a way
the snow falls sure,
gently on branches
that have withstood wind
and rain.

That these are the means
by which it conquers –
its constant weight
and tender imposition,
beneath which
the strongest of limbs
bend and break,

undone
by the soft mass
of its strength.


And there is a way
in its stealth-like determined stance,
that the course of love,
like the sea pressing in
or the snow overwhelming,

or the river charting a course,
will overcome each obstacle
and attempts keeping it at bay,
that we each in time succumb,
relenting as
blossoms to the wind –

or giving in,
as the parched up-turned flower’s face
might yield to the grace of rain.


Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
March 2020