"The Trees Have Something to Tell Us"

A Poem (For George)

On Friday, I received news of a dear friend who had passed away rather suddenly. His name was George. Do you know those rare individuals who come into your life, and without even knowing your history, they seem to see you, to see the deep essense of who you are… and then with words affirm what they have seen? I hope you have been as lucky as me to know such a person, at least one in your life. Well, George was such a person for me. George and I met many years ago through a program we were both a part of with the Kairos School of Spiritual Formation. We had the privilege of sitting with a “listening circle” to help discern next steps for this spiritual school; we later served together on the Board, and then during 2020, when the pandemic forced us to find virtual ways to connect, we were part of a spiritual direction group that met monthly online. 

Whenever I spoke in those contexts or shared a piece of my poetry, George was quick to affirm my voice. George heard me, and he saw me. Not the surface parts of me—such as my roles, my vocation, or my outward appearance. George heard and saw me, and others, at the heart level. Being seen and heard at the heart level may be the greatest gift we could ever offer another. And in a culture where men, especially, are conditioned to keep a certain detachment from their hearts, I found this quality in George most refreshing.

George and I first connected over our shared love of trees. I remember well the conversation we had when standing in the retreat center parking lot after a meeting, and with great enthusiasm, George shared about a book he had been reading: The Secret of Life of Trees (to be honest, I cannot remember if it was the book by that title or The Hidden Life of Trees). But it was from George where I first heard about this concept of trees being able to communicate to one another, and this watered a seed already planted in me—a belief that trees were sacred beings, and that perhaps we humans and the natural world could also mysteriously communicate with one another.

And so, it feels fitting today to share this poem I penned several years ago on those same retreat center grounds, in which I dedicated to George, my tree-loving friend… a man who could be my father. A rare man who lived and loved from the heart. A man who adored his wife, daughters, his grandchildren and our Earth home. A humble man, always aware that he had so much more to learn in this life. A man who once shared about seeing an image of the veins of his heart and realizing how similar they were to the roots of a tree.

To you, George, I dedicate this poem. And I thank you for seeing my heart and affirming my feminine voice. I have no doubt that your own deep roots which watered the widespread of love you had for this world have also produced the most beautiful fruit, leaving a legacy of love in your wake.

The Trees Have Something to Tell Us
(for George)

Shh..
listen.
The trees have something 
to tell us
and you cannot hear them
if your shoes or your mind 
are running down the street toward 
tomorrow.

So please,
for the sake of tomorrow, 
for the sake of today
(which is gone tomorrow),
for the sake of your soul
if not for the trees, 
listen.

You want me to tell you
what they are saying?

I could, but you would not hear it.

So, 
go to the trees;
drop the map, 
leave the phone in the car
and all your degrees.

Walk slowly,
as if you're on holy ground,
which, of course,
you are.

Or run!
Approaching as you would
a long, lost childhood friend,
which, 
	of course... 
		you are.

© Annette Darity Garber

A beloved weeping beech tree, a friend to both George and me. Known by many as “The Sheltering Tree”