Wendy Jensen
They are still here.
An unspoken presence
first fully realized
within the air
and ground
of the forest.
Inseparable from sunbeams
streaming down
and rich earth smells
wafting up.
Only a feeling
no sound
beyond whispering branches
and murmuring creek water.
The towering ancient corrugated trunks
rooted deeply into the soft dark soil
even larger
than my eyes
could take in.
I touched
my hands a tiny flicker
against thousand year-old beings
who disappeared
into the air
above.
A mouse tapping
the foot
of a mountain.
Their greeting arose in me
realized in retrospect.
A welcome
understood
deep in my bones
a communication
so pure and complete
that touching was clumsy
perfunctory.
The trees already knew we were there.
I was asked once
did the earth love me in return.
No
I thought
not having imagined
what love really means.
Love was a close embrace
a fixed gaze
to me.
Love was needing more
asking for a part of me
in exchange
always.
But perhaps love is
an awareness
of a being's existence
an acknowledgment
of one's presence
a quiet allowing
into the space
seemingly already filled
with the breath
of trees.
If so
then I was loved there.
My awareness of the other
took awhile to seep
into my skin.
Then
over the months
away from the ancient ones
the feeling grew.
Now here
in my living room
three thousand miles away
I recall
their humus-laden presence
their invisible encompassing arms
of acceptance.
This feeling is like nothing else
in my life
it leaves me complete
rather than wanting more.
Wanting more is reserved
for other more worldly and evanescent delights
a good book
an enchanting movie
applause
smiles.
The trees give love
in a way I did not think possible
filling me up
for keeps.
But their greatest gift
was opening my eyes
to what already
holds me close.
Dropping my fear
allowing me
to trust
the blessings
that sit softly
on my shoulders
keeping me safe
and warm.
Rather than measuring
my right to be loved
as a function
of how much I serve others
the trees taught
that love asks
for nothing
in return.
It simply is.
Gratitude fills my heart.
I look around me
and find love waiting for me
if I pause
for a moment
to see.
Serving others
becomes my own labor of love
rather than a barter system
to keep me alive.
It almost hurts
to allow this change
inside my heart and soul
like the first sips of water
after crossing a mighty desert.
I faded away
inside myself
for years
afraid to ask
thinking only that I must keep helping others
or I would be lost
and alone.
Knowing this
as a very small child
who tried to make sense
of the pain
felt all around her.
If I could reduce their pain
then maybe
I would deserve their love
enough
for them to give it
back.
But now I know the truth.
Love is not earned.
All my hidden
lost empty places
received nourishing gifts
a kiss of hello
a silting down of nourishment
slipping silently into
what I thought was a bottomless
pit
of need.
I am whole again.
Wendy Jensen
I grew up in three different countries, landing finally in New Hampshire to practice homeopathic veterinary medicine, play violin, and raise my children. My writing has appeared in the Tiny Seed Journal as well as numerous homeopathy journals. My experiences as a veterinarian, an advocate at my local crisis center, and a researcher at an animal rights organization all come together to inform my work.