The Quest for the Perfect Tree by Simply Susan

Emerging Courageous Online Magazine - Poetry

The Quest for the Perfect Tree by Susan Turner

She use to say to me
look at that magnificent tree
or look at those blossoming flowers
on our treacherous weekly walks.
I knew her manipulations...
what she was trying to have me do.
But I was far smarter then she knew.
My eyes stayed planted on the street
glaring at the asphalt beneath my feet.

I was never into nature anyway.
Trees, flowers, skies, mountains
were just a part of the world
that was to be rushed past
except for the menacing dry brown mountain
that I can see out my front window.
Each summer as the heat rises and
the hot winds whip up
I wait apprehensively for it to erupt into vivid flames
of red and orange as it did thirty years ago.

Last winter I saw the sky
especially before and after storms.
The startling blackness of the clouds
with the silver moon or radiant sun
attempting to break through embodied me.
For years the stormy darkness
frightened me with threats of
booming thunder and brilliant lightning.
Last winter I rushed out to catch
the dramatic sky...fear was forgotten.
The sky became a centering force...
a vast expense to focus my attention on
when there was a need within me.
I wondered if the winter sky had
always been so beautiful...

Last summer I saw the ocean
in its peaceful beauty and turbulent moods.
As each wave washed to the sand,
my mind was cleansed and
the grip I held so tightly on my body lessened.
For years the ocean was just a thing to lay near
as I scorched my skin dying for that golden tan.
Last summer my chilling childhood memories
of horrendous waves crashing into my tiny body,
enveloping me in black coldness
and the taste of putrid salt water in my mouth left me.
In the sea's serenity, I found my own... if only fleeting.
I wondered if the ocean had always been so healing...

Last fall I saw the trees with their leaves
pulsing vibrant hues
of red, orange, and golden yellow.
For years these trees stirred an uneasiness
within me as gusty winds caused them
to sway and bend.
Last fall I went on a quest for the perfect tree.
I parked my car on foreign streets and stopped
traffic to capture an autumn tree's beauty
before its fiery leaves fell to the waiting curb.
I was risking my "safety" as I ventured
through unfamiliar territories .
My quest for the perfect tree took the focus off of me.
I wondered if the fall trees had
always been so magnificent...

If she and I were still to take our weekly walks,
I would be drawing HER attention to
all of nature's wonders.
I would not be USING nature
as she once tried to have me do.
I am now in harmony with the trees,
skies, clouds, mountains, and flowers.
And I would want to share my awakening with her.
My eyes would never even notice
the gravelly asphalt beneath my feet.

And I would probably trip...

Susan Turner - December 14, 1994
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*authors note: "She" in the poem was my therapist.
She would come to my house each week walking me down the street house by house.

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