How Elephants Became Trees

With Thomas Rist

 Little bird,
I know the twist and flutter
of your fear, timpani in the throat.

-Rebecca Baggett

Long ago, before bark and roots, there were elephants in a traveling show.

Night after night, under bright lights, they teetered on painted platforms amid the roaring crowds and the crack of whips. With each commanded trick, their enormous hearts broke a little more.

Late one evening, when the circus camped near a dark and beautiful forest, the sound of the wind came calling softly, waking the gentle pachyderms from their restless sleep.

They slipped their chains

one

by

one.

Into darkness the elephants walked trunk-to-tail, trunk-to-tail, in an ambling line, guiding each other along deer-paths deep into the forest’s heart.

Fireflies lit their way, until they came to a safe and hidden grove, where they all spread out. Each weary body found a soft place to rest and bedded down.

Sleep came with the innocent peace that animals know—the gift of forgetting all harm the moment it ends.

Morning found them in a great, green room filled with sunlight. They woke without startling, without listening for the shouts of handlers. Breathing in the sweetness of dew-drenched moss, they knew that all was well. That everything was finally safe.

They were Beech trees now, transformed by the softness of immediate forgiveness.

Their roots grew down from former elephant feet into the warm and welcoming soil. Smooth silver bark replaced roughened hide. Their trunks reached skyward, no longer in performance but in prayer.

This is why we carve the names of those we love into the bark of Beech trees—sanctuary calls to sanctuary. The elephant-trees heal themselves at the edges of our letters, holding for us what we cannot bear to lose.

Now, whenever you walk in the forest among these gentle giants, see how their watching eyes hold no resentment. Only deep peace of hearts that forgive as naturally as they beat.

---

And here is a poem for you.

elephant   

in the room; it wants  
to speak of circus, whips  
walks through a forest; how  
fireflies light night 
beeches have eyes 
love is a tree with names; an elephant  
is roomy, makes room  
given forgiveness.

--Thomas Rist

My grateful thanks to Thomas Rist for his kindness, craft, and generosity.

You can enjoy more of Thomas’ poetry here.

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Dear One,

Your reading and comments always complete the circle of this conversation.

I would love to hear your thoughts about forgiveness, about the things that animals show us, or about anything else that occurs to you from this reading.

I hope this microseason finds you sheltered and at peace.

xo Ann