Held, Yet Swaying

Rooted, Yet Flowing

Like a tree planted by the stream,
I have stood in one place for a long time.

My roots stretch down,
seeping deep into the soil
where the currents run hidden and strong.

When the seasons turn,
what has quietly filled me within
ripens
into shining fruit.

Yet I am not hardened like a stone.
I am also a leaf
that bends gently
with the direction of the wind.

When fierce winds rise,
rather than resist and break,
I know how to lower myself
and move with them — almost like a dance.

On days when waves gather,
I let the wind carry me.
I rest upon the swell of the water,
light and steady,
like a surfer learning the rhythm of the sea.

My roots in the earth,
my body in the wind.
As seasons bloom and fade,
I face the layered gusts that roll toward me.

Held fast,
yet free.
Swaying,
yet growing.

I wait for the waves.
I yield myself to the wind.

My roots press deeper into the ground,
and I stand —
supple in my movement,
firm in my place.

*these are my own paintings *