Quercus shumardii

for Papa

A great tree has uprooted,
exposing the branching mass
caked in the red soil of the Western Plains.
What was parched had been made rich and loamy
by the giants that fell before,
pioneering specimens that germinated and made
a home under the endless horizon of Oklahoma.
The water that made those plants flourish
had come from England and Ireland,
from Galilee and Missouri.
The roots of those ancestors fed the saplings
of the new generation.
Entwined, two young trees grew close together,
feeding on one another,
strengthening each other’s roots.
Acorns became a thicket and then a forest,
spreading out in all directions.
The flaming red soil has changed over time,
fertilized, nurtured, enriched.
The acorns have been found scattered,
rooting in Texas and Colorado,
in Alaska and Kentucky.
A tradition of strength and serenity
tested in new soils, clays and sands,
ultisols, entisols, crider and port silt loam.
Lightning took out the second tree,
ripped away what had been life,
forcing the survivor to stretch out new branches
to cover the fallen companion,
to show strength in the face of tragedy,
to learn to love when love seemed to disappear.
The branches, sprawling out massively,
became only sparsely covered with leaves, but
never lost their majesty, their humility, kindness, dignity.
Now the great tree has joined its long-fallen partner,
stretched at the base among those it had given life to,
cradled by the thick trunks of trees
that have become mighty themselves.
They stretch impressively toward Heaven,
mimicking the once proud figures
now so apparently absent in the canopy.
The sun can once again burst through,
but this is no longer the harsh and arid place
it was when ancestors first arrived.
In the clearing a small field of flowers
will spring up in memorial,
attracting the beauty of birds and insects
until new saplings join the congregation.
That great tree is now one of the ancestors,
enriching the soils for future generations.

6.7.2014

Notes

Brian Fuchs, “Quercus shumardii” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

Written 7 June 2014 in Glencoe, Oklahoma

HANDOUTS FROM FUNERAL (Poem included as “The Tree”)

Posted 7 June 2014


I should be sleeping, but I find myself up thinking about getting old, or maybe just death. I am a little blue, but I know that I am not alone. I so desperately wish I could be alone in this sometimes. A friend e-mailed me the other day to tell me that his paternal grandpa and his maternal grandma are both in poor health. Very poor. It breaks my heart that he is dealing with the things I have struggled with. Honestly, this friend has had more than his fair share of struggles in his life. I want to give him a big hug.

Papa isn’t doing that well… it makes me feel guilty and sad. I am not sure I could handle anything happening to him right now. It would tear me up. He has back problems, which are not serious, but he has started feeling old, which is worse.

When John died, I has hoped that I would never deal with death again, knowing that was stupid… I just don’t know what I have left. I already do a great deal of pushing people away. More abandonment might cause a great break down. It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. I know that Papa isn’t doing that well, so I have visited less. It doesn’t help that the house makes me sad because Mimi should be there. Age is such a cruel joke. If you can make it through this life, you will be rewarded with death. How much sense does that make. I wish we didn’t get old – I don’t necessarily mind aging per se, but I don’t want people to die.

I hope Travis understands how much I love him and I will keep his family in my thoughts and prayers. I have so many thoughts in my head, but I am so tired that I will have to come back to them when I am not fighting with my sleep.

Featured Image Art: photo by George Hoza (via Unsplash)