The Island

Transcription

The sun fell on my bark and I woke for another day. Leaves unfurled, turned upward. Stretching. The view was the same as yesterday. Sea - speckled with whitecaps. White clouds hovering along the horizon. The sound of waves crashing on the shore I can never see but I know it must be there.

The beach is somewhere down below me. Below the cliff. The birds tell me it’s there. They tell me stories about the crabs and seaweed and shiny bits that have been tumbled by the water. My neighbors are silent, as always, but still here. They only speak when it matters. They never stray far from their monuments. Their stones are scattered across the island.

I watch when they arrive. They come with their families. I see them crest the hill. Somber processions with tools and flowers and sorrow. I feel their heaviness. I shelter them, when the sun burns brightest. My neighbors encircle them. Invisible well-wishers. Those days are my favorite. Those days I meet someone new.

The island is for them. They like the island. It is their haven.

We share our stories and welcome our new resident. The families bring me offerings. They set them at my trunk. I love when they hug me. I would hug them back if I could. I wish they could see my smiling neighbors. Instead, I just rustle and sometimes they look up with wonder. They pause. I wish they could see the shadows all around them. Some of my neighbor’s stones have been worn by the wind. Their names are no longer visible. But I remember their names. I remember the days they arrived. Brought carefully by boats. Sometimes the families act as if they can see my neighbors. They stare and pause. They listen. They pray and hold their hands out. When my neighbors hug them they smile. They smile just for a second before realizing they have to leave. No one can live here. No one has ever lived here but me.

I care for my neighbors, keeping them company, keeping them seen and welcoming the new. They keep me company in return. I have never had a sibling. I cannot reproduce. I do not flower or grow leaves anymore. I have been here for centuries. They planted me. They raised me. I keep watch.