We have met before.
I have been held here, on my way to somewhere else,
I have taken solace here and wept beneath your boughs.
You, my friend, are quite the specimen:
The tips of your bright green branches reaching up
and all the way back down to the ground again,
like a fountain.
In doing so, you create a magical, sacred holding space.
As “Fairy tree” I’m sure you are known by some.
Today it is you who need the favour.
Your arms that can hold so much, embrace so many,
can’t easily pluck the foreign that has been implanted in your trunk.
I will happily return the favour, glad to have a tool in my pocket.
I see one of your wounds are weeping,
Now I can embrace you.