The Redwood Sanctuary: A Dedication to Foundations (Usul)

Dead of winter last, I met a redwood copse
Book in arm I walked, title long since lost
Past cathedral crowns, ringing bells and boughs
Loud and frantic calls, unafraid to rouse

Gracefully they climbed past thickest fog,
Past traces of decline, past hollow logs
Branches swaying wild, shaken from the crown
Tree roots standing firm, deep inside the ground

Gathered in a grove, shading steady stream
Welcoming but cool, briskly sharp and clean
Rustling to make space, and perfume the air
Eager to greet all, and adopt with care

I sat beneath their canopy at dawn
And wondered at the centuries bygone.
What mysteries and secrets might be held
What stories eating air and light would tell

I listened rapt, as sister and brother
Spoke their secrets, one after another
A soft whisper faded in the breeze
Another explicated with ease:

“Though held in distinct form and bound by solid matter
We transcend our bodies, to cleanse air, earth, and water
Our roots entangle soil, and crowns reach for the sky
We stretch past belief, yet are dwarfed by mountain high

The systems within us and those that surround
Speak of laws we need and by which we are bound
Our work is hidden, yet we are not so shy
We yield our secrets to the discerning eye.”

A splash of green sprang up to take the floor
Casting her voice to share the redwood’s lore
Her tender frills began to sprout and grow
With words, her world expanded on its own:

“My waxy needles repel rain, I don’t use them to respire
These boundaries I maintain, that nothing may transpire
I stand with family: living and those now passed
Conjoined in root and kind, together until the last
 
I stand stunned by sister Spruce, dwarfed by brother Oak, 
Yet only in their midst, will I grow true to stock
So long as I am not uprooted by the likes of you
I, too, will grow to shade this family anew.”

The undergrowth called, thickly from the base
From below, it made the family’s case
Trunks built in patterns, evenly placed
Leaf-tips connecting in light-latticed space:

“Let me tell you how we care for one another here
We intertwine our roots to keep the saplings near
Then elders shade the young, anchoring with care
Building strong sturdy trunks, not just empty air
 
We transfer what we can to the sick who need a hand, 
Of food, water, and ken– for the health of our clan
Death happens at length, we cannot risk a gap
A sudden fall echoes far, weakening our sap."

A feral tree jumped in, unleashing storms 
Fueled by pure chaos beneath shaking tones
Splintered by lightning, diseased and blackened
A self fragmented, a self abandoned:

“Hear me out now, see my fate; I have much to say:
Escaping shadows, I once tried to run away
I dreaded woodpeckers drill daily in my bark,
I lacked protection to withstand the foul attack
 
My view expanded as I grew to medium height 
Exposed to a bright, new world clarified by light
Here, I am tethered and bound, fastned to the ground
Now, I remain stuck; my only reach: higher up."

I fled from the woods, pierced by its words 
Only to bump into a veteran guard
Richly colored, regal, stunning and tall
Speaking in plain tone, compelling to all:

"I didn’t establish myself by leave from you
Nor by mere chance, could I stand so true
I don’t steal air, nor usurp water and light
Not for purposes my own; I only exist by right
 
I surpass Cypress, springing even past Pine
Not by my choice, but through the law divine
Determined is my life; witness me as sign
I submit to the laws, in their complex design."

The sentinel’s shade prompted me to pause
I sat to think when suddenly it dropped
A tearful storm into half-empty mug, 
Splashed and startled, I asked its intent:

“One drop is enough. Why, then, the deluge?
The torrent, the flood, uproar, and downpour?
One ray is enough. Why, then, the glitter?
Mirrors of light upon light upon light?
 
If One mountain ranged above the plains
One flower stayed to adorn the vales
One blade sprung after dark rains
I’d spend all in homage, make pilgrimage.”

I left the grove when Silence reigned, 
Crossing many clearings before it dawned
That high in these hills, I was not alone
Ahead of me rose rows of solemn stone:

“Row upon row stands in unending prayer
Our calls will haunt this meadow forever
We testify in silence, unbearably loud
Together in life, now just feet apart.
 
Witness the groves dug into vast knolls of earth:
Would you still stand if I didn’t hold my ground?
Facing the impossible, should I have bowed?
Will your tears be enough to revive us now?”

A voice shot out from the roots of forbears
Lacking the grace of trees more mature
Alerting a vantage it wanted to share
From sharply bent angle, easy to hear:

“A burl sprouts when it senses danger
A raging forest fire pulled the trigger
My system looks bizarre as I begin to adapt
When all are felled, what can you expect?
 
I grow in the shade of Laurel and Poplar
(Then shade them out, because I am taller)
My systems are young; you call them modern
If I survive, a new direction beckons.”

I stubbed my toe against a piece of stump
Coming face-to-face with a width of trunk
An archive compiled, each season distinct
The outermost spoke for each ring within:

“You dissect me for analysis of the past
I say it changes little of the plot
Sawdust to stardust, all dust unto dust
My stories contained in rings compressed.

Each century only ever brought
Lightening and fires I never sought
Still I expanded, still ring upon ring
Providing shade, scars witness-bearing."

A chorus then began to sing as one 
Voice carried forth by the young
A message from an ancient source of yore
When dust was dew and lore was true:

"I tried with mighty intention and all vanished into dust.
I stopped, then, to listen, and all returned as it must.
I closed my eyes to look within, and it was only then–
I looked up from a poem to catch a glimpse of heaven
 
…So we speak our secrets aloud, uniquely yet in unison
In voices truly of our own, we offer up our wisdom
Not to one who meditates on form, nor relies on observation
Who sees us not as objects, but as signs for contemplation."

--

You call me: Sequoia sempervirens (ever-living)

“I looked upon the universe with eyes undistracted and with Divine help I saw that all beings speak the existence of the Creator, and that in reality every silent thing is actually speaking. I opened myself to the hints or signs that glimmer in nature, and I fathomed the allegories they represent.

I realized that everything in reality is gifted with the capacity to communicate either by the sense or by the intellect.

I realized that the language of silence is more eloquent than speech.”

-(Izz al-Din Abdul Salām bin al-Ghānim al-Maqdisi, 1262)