Living on the plains of hope and dotted throughout the hills
The ancient olive tree is standing oh so still
Its roots have survived over all these years
Bearing fruit that when pressed cries salt free tears
A national tree shared by two feuding nations
Caught in a maelstrom of unsettled relations
Claimed by the red rough earth to both the east and west
The olive tree stands as a symbolic test, a test to dig deep and be one’s best
It chooses not to grow confined within the lines
Rather it spreads its branches as a crucial message for the times
It flourishes freely drinking deep from its roots
It soaks up clear waters that run hidden beneath the troops
Quenching its thirst for peace in the valley
While it quietly witnesses smoke from a distant galley
If only a branch from this shared humble tree would be extended
Then grasped from either side, these current follies could most certainly be ended
—
I’m a Delta, BC resident who began writing poetry as a young girl but really connected with it in earnest in my mid-thirties as a way to explore and understand myself and the wider world. Now in my sixties poetry and the written word continue to inspire me. I do love trees. I have found that without intention they have shown up in my poetry over time – It isn’t out of design, rather it seems to happen spontaneously, but it is always special when the tree shows up.