Living Tree Poetry

For my body
I would step
around in a thousand circles

like the sun sets
or the moon orbits
the earth

who is in love
with whom?


For my body
I would follow
the way the light hits

the upperside of leaves
the trunk
the grass spread

who is desiring
whom?


For my body
I would sing
low

trill high
the way the birds
sing their morning chorus

who is calling out to
whom?



For my body
I would,
but perhaps the flesh

is as the rose’s blooming
flush
petals shed

We’re to give up the frame
for the substance burning –
reducing

to the eternal essence.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
April 2020

‘What you are longing for lives at the source of your longing. It will never be found as an object of longing. You will never find it. … Your longing is made out of the very stuff for which you are longing.
Remember the Italian monk:
‘Lord, Thou art the love with which I love Thee.’ …Your longing will never be fulfilled, it can only be dissolved, dissolved in its source, dissolved in that from which it rises. You are that for which you are in search.’
~ Rupert Spira

“In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden. And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth, there grew in my garden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers. And my neighbours came to behold them, and they all said to me, ‘When autumn comes again, at seeding time, will you not give us of the seeds of these flowers that we may have them in our gardens?’”
~ Khalil Gibran

‘I must have flowers, always, and always.’
~ Claude Monet