Numb Tree

A tree couldn't speak, it was not meant to but to see and be there. A firm and grounded one waiting for passers by. People would always admire the tree for its beautiful branches, the relief during summers, the warmth during winters and protection from the stormy and windy nights. There came men and women, animals, birds, serpents, couples,  loners, pessimists, optimists, indifferent as someone or no one. 

This tree enjoyed varied seasons, strange moods of people and chaos in itself. It shed leaves, it grew greener, sometimes older, sometimes newer-new branches sky high, new leaves sinking under gravity; a fine one it was. The only concern-it could not speak. There was a sense of joy in watching the immediate surrounding being healthy and bubbling with zeal, sometimes with uncontrollable passion. It made the tree alive even though it was grounded...it could still fly high, seek pleasure in being a mere spectator. 

There came a season of bliss. A tree changing its colors was unique-different branches, different shades. All catering to different needs or may be there was no worry of need. The tree never slept, it waited for people to rest under it. It wanted to care for them day and night. It was actually restless. But can a tree afford to experience it? It was grounded. It couldn't run behind its onlookers or admirers. Could it weep if people tried to pluck its leaves or cut its beautiful branches...no..it had to be numb. It had to derive things from the ground, from the sky..to sustain-stand tall whatever may happen. The bliss was an unstable one, but stability for a tree was a dream. It had faced extreme fluctuations in the wind, the wrath of furious sun and how could it blame fellows for being unstable! ..it had to help them. It was there to care, for shelter. It felt the numbness building up, filling its trunk with fear-its integrity was challenged.

To this day, the tree exists with its eyes wide open and numb branches. Sometimes figures arrive, rest and go. It waits for another bliss. But may be this time there is some expectation. Something from itself, not from the beings. It knows that it is equally alive as others. It just has to suck it in, from the roots-breath fresh air. It may not fear being on the edge and watching its roots loosing grip. The soil is loosing its hold..rain, storm and all of them conspire. But the tree has time to contemplate. May be today it can't chase or choose who may come and rest. May be tomorrow it might die and re-grow into a beautiful bird, free..for itself and meet similar beings who care to fly independent...may be its a wish.