The Oak That Never Was

Another threat approached quietly,
like mist settling over the morning.
Not long ago, you were full of light.
Now I look at you and see someone else �"
as if your former strength
has been lifted from your shoulders.
This sight stirs a fear
that needs no words.

The first time you faced the thought of leaving,
I was a child.
Your thoughts drifted like birds before a storm;
you said goodbye to the house, to the place, to us.
We planted a small oak in the forest, and you said:

“Remember this place.
One day this oak will grow tall.
I will not be here to see it,
but you will show it to your grandchildren
and tell them you planted it with your grandfather.”

The oak did not survive.
You did.

The second time, your eyes carried pain
that sought no witnesses.
You refused help,
yet as the ambulance drove away,
calm settled quietly around me.
The house glowed with familiar warmth,
and I knew �" it was not yet time to part.

Now nights are like a restless sea.
They do not rock �" they push,
threatening a plunge into the unknown.
I keep vigil in a house waiting for you,
but it can no longer shelter me.

I look at you and see the person I love �"
one I know and do not know at once.
The one who taught me the world
has paused at its threshold.
You built my backbone,
and now you learn to bear frailty.

The forest is silent.
I stand where we planted a tree.
The oak that never was has taken root in me.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

So the oak took root after all. Just so. If we are lucky. Not all are. A very wistful and moving piece about growing up and growing old. The old boy left a strone impression on the young one. He knew what he was doing when he did so too. Wise words. And the young one listened and learnt and watched as life took its course. All captured in your poem. Oaks are great trees and we are lucky to have them in our lives.