Among the Trees

Notice how the trees sway with the rhythm of the wind. Though stripped of green, their branches dance as if crowned with leaves— unbothered by the eyes of humanity, unashamed of their winter-bare truth. I wish I held such courage, such rooted confidence. For I too have faced the hollow season, where silence wraps around the bones of who I am. When spring comes and the trees begin to bloom, I hope I do too. I’m weary of being constantly conscious of how the world might see me— always bending, never breaking free. So I lie here beneath them, and I listen. I pray they whisper their secrets— how to stand tall in stillness, how to bloom after emptiness. And in their hush, I begin to believe: maybe I will bloom too.