The Night Tree

holy silence

The Night Tree

After the party, the tree was lonely,

the autumn wind rushing up out of

the north, the tree standing with its

arms looped around the sky as if it knew

how cold the world had become. After

the party, the tree was silent, like a friend

who knew how hard it can be, memory,

memory, and then there’s my child waiting

in the quiet of her bedroom, waiting for my lips

on her cheek with the desire only a child feels,

before she has learned my flaws, my flesh,

before I’ve done too much wrong to undo.

After the party, the tree and I stand together

as if old lovers, not much to say but feel the wind

bite at our skin, not much to do but stare up

at the unrelenting world as it whirrs.

//

Silent night, holy night. Holy silence. I am just returned from a few days in an old house, surrounded by hemlocks, far up in the mountains. The first night, I woke startled. Not from a noise, but from the silence itself. The house was heated by a wood stove, so there were no fans whirring, no distant cars passing. I felt if I listened hard enough, I might just hear the stars expand.

There was relief in the silence, and also resistance. When the unrelenting noise is finally stripped away we are confronted with all that lays underneath. And sometimes what lays underneath is grief, so it’s no wonder we fill up our lives with all the noise we can.

Also in the silence is knowing. “The tree was silent, like a friend, who knew how hard it can be.”

I’ve been thinking about inner knowing. Like how I knew I needed to go to that big quiet house among the hemlocks, and spend some time listening. I don’t give my inner knowing enough credit. She is wise. Wise beyond her years, because she is beyond her years, beyond her self.

skin and bark

skin and bone

The thing about creating from this place of inner knowing is, the creations are a hell of a lot better!

I only made a handful of images while away, but they came straight from my gut. And when I look at them, this is clear to me. I am feeling pulled to make more sensual and primal images. Another way of saying, straight form the gut, I suppose. I don’t know what this will look like, but am excited to see where it leads.

Notes to self scribbled this morning - Be aware of distractions. They will keep coming. Move from a place of inner knowing. Listen to inner voice. If you can’t hear her, get quiet. If quiet is not possible, find music to move to. Water works too.

Wishing you holy silence as the nights stretch long.

xoxo,

Eliza

for more of Meghan’s award winning poetry - Meghan Sterling

for more of my photography - Eliza Bell Photography