The Wise Wishing Tree
A Vision of Hopeful Surmise
From a place far beyond this world, a single branch lies on what serves as a table in THAT place.
Untouched, it stirs. Small buds begin to crackle and emerge from living husks. The branch flowers into life: a Call. An Invitation. It is time once again to go to the TREE.
Growing amidst the wonders of eternity, in a forrest or a glenn or a field too infinite to number, blooms wise wishing trees. One has just come alive, bursting in glorious wonder of color and fragrance and bloom it has sent out its summons to the souls it gathers for the one who made it.
The TREE has seen many an embarkation – patiently waited through lifetimes celebrated and mourned – and today is a Day of Return.
Those who have gone on before are gathering under its branches. Those who will someday make their own voyages unite. This is a Day of WELCOME. And lo, in the distance, a figure is seen coming across the Great Divide.
“The great tree calls, each to it’s own cluster of souls: Home. Here they return – lives touching an eternal soil, from branches to time’s own roots. Each bloom in their seasons – some long, some short, each blossom a ‘life’ – painful and joyful – in a tapestry woven and being weaved.”
* * *
A soul leaps joyfully toward its tree, crossing distances with a new-found ease. Memories of embarkation and other homecomings to this place return – as the memory of ambulance lights fade and the confusion of temporal din fades. The soul draws closer to the crowd now gathered under the tree, each with open and expectant hearts.
Age and ailment, sexuality and gender – all seem to find a place in the wind as the soul approaches. Under feet the nurturing roots of the tree begin to pulse with life. Above the blossoms from every branch are too wonderful to behold.
At last! Arrival home! Ageless, timeless, forgiven, and free – they all embrace amidst the resonance of seasoned love.
* * *
From the distance another bright soul slowly joins them, letting them revel in one another for a moment. This is one of ancient wisdom, who meets all with embracing nail-pierced arms – the steady farer across swift waters – the light-bearer through the dark corridors which divides what is HERE from what was there…
The wise tree smiles – in its own way – and sends down from its peak a flower to rest in the hands of the precious returning soul. It’s gift. It’s love. High up in the tree where the husk of the flower once was there springs a new branch, of memory and unique identity, joining the countless branches.
Across the fields and Forrests brother and sister trees wave their welcome through the wind. The new branch yawns to life, stretching in the dawn of purer light, bursting deeper heavenward toward the Son.
It is an END time.
It is a BEGINNING not yet remembered.
It is Jubilee…
Comencier
D. S. Lamoureux, 2020
Dedicated to the author’s nephew, Treyvon –
– and his dreams on a Santa Monica beach
2019