43. Hanging On and Letting Go

Note: My mom recently shared the below poem with my siblings and me. Trees and tree leaves are my go-to symbol for … well… for life and I think about them all the time. When I started exploring Buddhism for fully in 2023, I instantly gravitated towards the symbol of trees and leaves as a great representation of what hanging on and letting go can look like. I’ve been wanting to write about that for a while but have been putting it off. So when I saw her poem, I thought it could be a fun exercise to write my own version of her beautiful poem. Her poem is first, mine follows.

Hanging On

by Jill McKibben

Spring, and the trees are full of leaves
and I sit and watch them flutter in the breeze
from my chair of ease.

Then Summer comes and the leaves wilt
just a little, hoping to be rebuilt
by just a gentle rain, every now and again.

In Autumn, the show begins and they fancy being the star
as colors erupt and admiring eyes come from near and far
to get a look, a photo, a memory of their brilliance.

After the show of Autumn, the cold winds of Winter blow
so hard that many of them can’t hold on any longer, as best they try.
It takes a few cold Northers for the stubborn ones to descend.

It’s really not so hard to let go, but there’s always one or two
determined to hang on. Are they glad about that…being the very few left behind?

Left behind to watch the ones before them fall and flee, as wind and wind blowers with their harsh sound rounds them up
for their final destination.

Maybe it would have been better to just let go. To not hang on.
To accept the things that cannot be changed.
And think that it was a good four seasons life after all.

—-

Letting Go

by her son

The leaf feels the thaw and unfurls
as it breathes into Spring
Stretching outwardly in green splendor
and connecting to the tree that borne it
and the air that feeds it
Alive again, at last

The Summer comes and the leaves dance together in the dry winds
before being pelted by big drops of a replenishing rain
and a lightning bolt that hits not far away, testing their connections
A day later, lovers lie below the tree and stare into a starry sky above

Summer passes into Autumn with a thick fog
gently blowing between the trees
as they shed their greens for reds and yellows
And a dry cool air that kisses some of them downwards
But oh what a sight.
What a beautiful sight
And we marvel at their brilliance

Winter comes with a blast of air
that blows in overnight but started over icy plains
A lot of the leaves fall.
But the leaf holds on.
Or is being held on to, it’s hard to tell.

Alone
but still connected.
An icy wind whistles by
The once new leaf turned green
then red
then yellow
but now dries a shriveled grey
and the connection is lost

It floats down gently and softly touches earth.
The cool air above.
The warm earth below.
Reunited again at last.

The tree branches lie bare
and sway under icy fingers
But the bark holds firm, even as deer nibble at it
And the ringed trunk constricts in the cold
even as sap courses through it
And the tree root runs deep
And runs strong
Because the fallen leaves have replenished it

The leaf feels the thaw and unfurls
as it breathes into Spring
Stretching outwardly in green splendor
and connecting to the tree that borne it
and the air that feeds it
Alive again, at last