not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

bones of the tamarack

there are the bones of people i love.  some of them are inside living bodies.  some of them are inside of bodies whose skin has rotted away and whose bones are no longer bones but instead are closer in likeness to the soil that enshrouds them.  there are people in this world that i love who i have never met.  there are people in this world who i will love who i do not even know exist yet. 

what can this possibly mean?

when i drive to work i drive by this tamarack.  i love this tree.  i have knowingly and lovingly driven by it for ten years but for many years before i passed it by without seeing it. 

it will, most likely, outlast me.

what of all this love?  what form will the love then take?