Oh, Phyllis... thank you so much for this. My 93-year-old mother is in a steady decline now, and your stunning poem on that rich bark is just wonderful, as are Hope Edelman's wise words. Sending you much love, you fine daughter tree, who have your own circle of women around you, seeds you've planted over many years as teacher and writer. "We never stop growing, / even after we fall," indeed.
Oh dear Jan . . . you fine daughter tree . . . may you and your mother and the circle of all who love you be blessed. May the decline be gentle and as swift as consolation.
Ohhh thank you for expressing this precious and deep mother love. Grateful for your lucidity and dedication to our human spirit through this life. Praying for you and your family, and your heart to be consoled.
I feel the same as Claire. As the gentle rain peppers down on this crisp fall morning and refresh this dry earth, your words also refresh and give renewal to my soul. Prayers of gratitude for your soul and your gifts and continued prayers of peace to you, dear Phyllis. ❤️🙏❤️
Phyllis your poem along with Edelman’s moving metaphor are like a balm coming at the right time when I must comfort the family of friend who was a mother and compassionate friend, who died suddenly from a stroke. Such gifts you have given us. Your poem on that bark is just beautiful and I am so glad to have been part of hearing about your creative process to create it. ❤️❤️
Thank you, Phyllis—-this is beautiful and a marvelous reminder of the miracle of living. I read it through the eyes of someone (and on behalf of those) who didn’t like her mother. I had no desire to be like her, but of course, I was. I am. And paradoxically, I learned a great deal both about what I didn’t want to be and what I did want to be. For that, there is only gratitude and deep appreciation for the Mother Tree in my life.
Many mother-daughter relationships are complicated, or fraught, or destroyed, or necessarily abandoned. Even, at times, the best. Because mothers and daughters are ever human. How wonderful that you chose to bear witness as you did! Mother Tree is so much bigger than the wounded limbs that didn’t know how to embrace.
You made it! I never heard if your project was actually realized! Oh it's beautiful and thank you always for your deep insight in your poetry. Thinking of you and sending hugs 🤗
Such a gift on the edge of the unknown. We are rooted beneath and in the darkness of life. Out of darkness life.
We must remember the wisdom of trees to find our way through the chaos. In the beginning there was chaos and it gave birth to each one of us. You bless us and we bless you. This is very good. Thank you.
Oh, Phyllis... thank you so much for this. My 93-year-old mother is in a steady decline now, and your stunning poem on that rich bark is just wonderful, as are Hope Edelman's wise words. Sending you much love, you fine daughter tree, who have your own circle of women around you, seeds you've planted over many years as teacher and writer. "We never stop growing, / even after we fall," indeed.
Oh dear Jan . . . you fine daughter tree . . . may you and your mother and the circle of all who love you be blessed. May the decline be gentle and as swift as consolation.
My deepest sympathies on the passing of your dear Mother. My prayers are with you and her beautiful memory will carry you on.
Thank you so much, Thomasina. Mom is within me, strong.
Ohhh thank you for expressing this precious and deep mother love. Grateful for your lucidity and dedication to our human spirit through this life. Praying for you and your family, and your heart to be consoled.
Thank you, my friend. I’m glad the poem spoke to you. I am well. And may you be, as well.
What a beautiful metaphor this is and I learned something new as well. Thank you for sharing this with us.
I feel the same as Claire. As the gentle rain peppers down on this crisp fall morning and refresh this dry earth, your words also refresh and give renewal to my soul. Prayers of gratitude for your soul and your gifts and continued prayers of peace to you, dear Phyllis. ❤️🙏❤️
Thank you, dear Gayla. And I can hear the peppering rain . . . the words refresh me, along with your prayers of peace.
You’re so welcome, dear friend.
❤️🙏❤️
Phyllis your poem along with Edelman’s moving metaphor are like a balm coming at the right time when I must comfort the family of friend who was a mother and compassionate friend, who died suddenly from a stroke. Such gifts you have given us. Your poem on that bark is just beautiful and I am so glad to have been part of hearing about your creative process to create it. ❤️❤️
I’m so sorry for the death of your dear friend, Annette. May you have what you need to meet the grief while also offering comfort to the stricken.
Thank you, Phyllis—-this is beautiful and a marvelous reminder of the miracle of living. I read it through the eyes of someone (and on behalf of those) who didn’t like her mother. I had no desire to be like her, but of course, I was. I am. And paradoxically, I learned a great deal both about what I didn’t want to be and what I did want to be. For that, there is only gratitude and deep appreciation for the Mother Tree in my life.
Many mother-daughter relationships are complicated, or fraught, or destroyed, or necessarily abandoned. Even, at times, the best. Because mothers and daughters are ever human. How wonderful that you chose to bear witness as you did! Mother Tree is so much bigger than the wounded limbs that didn’t know how to embrace.
Thank you. Such a beautiful, gracious and true response.
Continued Blessings to you Phyllis!❤️
And to you, my friend!
You made it! I never heard if your project was actually realized! Oh it's beautiful and thank you always for your deep insight in your poetry. Thinking of you and sending hugs 🤗
Yes’m, I made it. And I hope to make at least a couple more. 😊 Thanks for your encouragement and practical support!
Such a gift on the edge of the unknown. We are rooted beneath and in the darkness of life. Out of darkness life.
We must remember the wisdom of trees to find our way through the chaos. In the beginning there was chaos and it gave birth to each one of us. You bless us and we bless you. This is very good. Thank you.
Lorraine, per our sweet email exchange, let me point out how easily your prose might morph into a poem, or at least a poetry seedling:
We are rooted beneath,
in the darkness of life,
a gift on the edge of the unknown.
We must remember the wisdom of trees
to find our way through the chaos.
In the beginning there was chaos
and it gave birth to each one of us.
Out of darkness life.
This is very good.