Ancient Tree

 A treasure I found looking through one of my poetry notebooks I've had for a few years. I have no idea when I wrote it, but I love it, and I know I wrote it about my favorite tree.

I look into wisdom's eye
on ancient weathered tree
a knot, dark at the center,
the galaxies of time
swirl and dance inside.
The gnarled bark is like
maps of changing land
the terrain of centuries.
Those many, many arms
reaching down, reaching up
to embrace every child,
every soul seeking freedom.
That ancient tree gathers into
it's living wooden arms,
all those feeling down
and lifts them up
so they can fly.
Becoming one with the sky.
A child trapped inside
expectations of people,
climbed that ancient tree
sat up in the branches,
nestled against the friendly bark,
she painted in the tree.
And the tree whispered
words of ancient wisdom.
Saying, child, you'll survive,
don't give up, persevere.
And the child looked
to the positive side
and the child survived.