It is said that the roots survived. It is said that people returned to feel the leaves, which may have been so many shirts, rising and falling in the wind. It is said that the wind brings recollection, because it is unhoused, with open doors. There are, you know windows to the sea— love, secrets wounds.
ii.
I do not have the words for this: No one does. Something trite could be said about how deep the roots were, or how ancient. Something could be said about healing, or return. Something could be said about diving into that dark place
where stars turn in the body to touch light traveling for centuries. Something could be said for waiting.
iii.
But I cannot say anything, for the empty chairs in the forest, the blood of flowers— for the seeds, like stones under the tongue.
(nspired by: Will Matsuda, a photographer and writer based in Portland, Ore. From: The New York Times—The Trees that Survived Hiroshima
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Read more of Christina Turczyn's work here on Lightwood. Scroll to our Search Button, insert her name and click.
A writer and visual artist, Christina has contributed watercolors to many exhibits, including Cornell Has Talent in Manhattan. In her career as a writer, she has over one hundred publications in magazines and journals. Those span international events covered at the Guggenheim and The World Around Summit.The Yara Arts Group, a resident company at the LaMaMa Experimental Theatre, has performed her poetry at the Fletcher-Sinclair Mansion over the years. Christina lives in Midland Park, New Jersey.
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