resinous...

I'd read a quote by Jane Hirshfield this morning.

Such a beautiful woman. Poet. Collection of feelings. Moments.

She spoke about admiring resilience.

Not just resistance.

Pillows go back to their original form. That's resistance.

But...

Not so, trees.

When blocked of sunlight.

They turn. Face another way. Twist and twine.

Moving ever forward to living.

To life.

In its contorted shape, the trees, the turtles, the rivers all carry on to exist.

And here I am a mind full of awareness.

Able to see and regard their struggles.

With song.

With rhyme.

And yet

at times

i want to end it all.

How woeful must the trees feel.

Wishing perhaps, I had a gram of resinous unretractable passion to continue.

To go on.

To be like the unretractable earth.

With tectonic crash and quiet collapse rebuild but never to rescind.

Never to surrender.

For there is no word for surrender in the nature of things.