When I see a tyrant,
Bloated with ego,
I must look beyond
His twisted fury
At the ancient tree behind him.
Then I remember what is real.
Those beautiful gnarled branches
Still creaking, reaching out
Providing shade, even to tyrants.
Her roots still pushing
Against rock-hard darkness
Deep in the ground
Under everyone’s feet.
Where they have been soaking in
The earth’s richness
Long before our time.
Have courage!
Speak out against hatred,
But not before admitting your own.
We are weak, but Love is strong.
All things are passing, but Love remains.
Roots seek water
Sap will flow
Sediment settles
Love is what I know.
—Jean Elliott Junis, Prairiewoods retreatant
Posted Aug. 15, 2017
Great poem, Jean Junis!