By Stephanie Ross
The day I became a tree was the day I lost her. I was there when they met of course, otherwise I could not tell this tale. I stood tall and strong just as I always did but my newfound lack of flexibility and flesh made holding hands quite impossible. I did try with my lower limbs to graze her touch but on that day in particular the wind had abandoned us, blown to someplace else, and left me rooted in immobility. She stood so close I could feel her breath on the crevices in my bark. I could see the sparkle in her eyes as curious as ever, and I so longed to touch her, hold her tight like we once did back when we were yourng, before I became a tree. But of course, I could not do any of those things and it wasn’t long until she turned her head towards the man in the white suit. I believe I shall hate white forever-that abyss of a colour worn by the man void of all character, all intelligence, everything except the warm touch of skin and the heartbeat that was once mine.
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Stephanie Ross writes at the confluence of inner inquiry and the living world. Guided by her practice as a Ren Xue Yuan Qigong teacher, she crafts poetry, fiction, and nonfiction that invites readers to relax, soften, and develop connection to heart and True Self. Her work is published in the League of Canadian Poets, White Wall Review, RXA Qiblog, Tiger Moth Review, Braided Way Magazine, and Wild Umbrella among others. You can often find her on forest trails with her 67-pound lap dog, Pepper. Connect with her:
Website: https://www.stephanierossauthor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StephanieRossAuthor/