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ermenengildaby Mark Hill
It took me some time to know that Tree. I used to pass it on my way to school. On one wintry day when the roads and trees were covered in white snow and I was passing that tree, she dropped some snow on my shoulder. And when I looked at her she smiled and said: "Hello, little boy!"; yes, it was on a cold wintry day that I found my new beautiful friend. She was so beautiful, especially when she was dancing in the wind. I introduced her to my friends and we used to climb up and play with her.
I remember once when I wanted to climb up, I fell down and injured myself. She took me in her arm tenderly and covered all my body with her leaves. My red blood painted her body. I can never forget the comfort and magic smell of her body; after a few moment our pulses and breaths mixed up and became one. it was a moment of absolute calmness and tranquility; I found myself in a green haven, and I became the tree, and the tree was me.
After that day every time that I was passing that tree I gave her a cuddle, but first I had to make sure nobody saw us, because they might have thought I was going mad.
Years passed by and I grew to become a young man. I remember the time when for the first time I fell in love with a girl, and we painted our names on the body of the tree, and I could feel how she was happy for us. She gave some of her yellow and orange flowers to the girl that I was in love with; yes I learned from her that girls love flowers.
Some years later madness started; madness and distraction which called itself revolution, fanaticism and brutality that called itself freedom.
During one of these day when the roads and all the towns were on fire, and smoke and bullets came from everywhere, my beautiful tree got shot. When I asked her if she was in pain she said: "Yes; pain and sadness, but not from bullets, from this madness that tries to replace life with death, love with hate, laughter with crying, light with darkness". Yes, my beautiful tree was so sensitive and bright.
I remember her death; it was a cold wintry day when revolutionary guards hanged the girl that I was in love with, from a branch of that tree. My girlfriend had been in prison for some years, and after all these tortures it was difficult to recognise her. Her beautiful dark hair was grey, and she had become so thin that the only thing still shining was her beautiful deep blue eyes. But my tree had a very good memory; she immediately recognised her. Yes, on that day they had their last dance together, and I lost both of my loves, my girl and my tree. It was on that cold wintry day that I felt the pulses of love dying in me.
Years later, after being in darkness and loveless, I was in a different place in another part of the world when it happened again. It was on a nice spring day when I was passing a tree that she dropped her pink and purple flowers on my shoulder, and smiled at me. And I could feel the pulses of love within me again.
It took me some time to know that Tree. I used to pass it on my way to school. On one wintry day when the roads and trees were covered in white snow and I was passing that tree, she dropped some snow on my shoulder. And when I looked at her she smiled and said: "Hello, little boy!"; yes, it was on a cold wintry day that I found my new beautiful friend. She was so beautiful, especially when she was dancing in the wind. I introduced her to my friends and we used to climb up and play with her.
I remember once when I wanted to climb up, I fell down and injured myself. She took me in her arm tenderly and covered all my body with her leaves. My red blood painted her body. I can never forget the comfort and magic smell of her body; after a few moment our pulses and breaths mixed up and became one. it was a moment of absolute calmness and tranquility; I found myself in a green haven, and I became the tree, and the tree was me.
After that day every time that I was passing that tree I gave her a cuddle, but first I had to make sure nobody saw us, because they might have thought I was going mad.
Years passed by and I grew to become a young man. I remember the time when for the first time I fell in love with a girl, and we painted our names on the body of the tree, and I could feel how she was happy for us. She gave some of her yellow and orange flowers to the girl that I was in love with; yes I learned from her that girls love flowers.
Some years later madness started; madness and distraction which called itself revolution, fanaticism and brutality that called itself freedom.
During one of these day when the roads and all the towns were on fire, and smoke and bullets came from everywhere, my beautiful tree got shot. When I asked her if she was in pain she said: "Yes; pain and sadness, but not from bullets, from this madness that tries to replace life with death, love with hate, laughter with crying, light with darkness". Yes, my beautiful tree was so sensitive and bright.
I remember her death; it was a cold wintry day when revolutionary guards hanged the girl that I was in love with, from a branch of that tree. My girlfriend had been in prison for some years, and after all these tortures it was difficult to recognise her. Her beautiful dark hair was grey, and she had become so thin that the only thing still shining was her beautiful deep blue eyes. But my tree had a very good memory; she immediately recognised her. Yes, on that day they had their last dance together, and I lost both of my loves, my girl and my tree. It was on that cold wintry day that I felt the pulses of love dying in me.
Years later, after being in darkness and loveless, I was in a different place in another part of the world when it happened again. It was on a nice spring day when I was passing a tree that she dropped her pink and purple flowers on my shoulder, and smiled at me. And I could feel the pulses of love within me again.