If You Want To Try

Putting them on required working quickly in the fading light of the freezing air, wrapping different materials, and hoping for enough protection from the elements in order to heal.

Taking them off took longer, required scissors/a box cutter/clippers,  a lot more work, and far more courage.

For almost deadly wounds like these, the tree expert said last February:

"If you want to try to save it - this is what you do right now and this is what you'll do in August.
 - and there's no guarantee it'll survive."

If you want to try -
Do now - do later - no guarantees.

Bandages and Courage

Why do we rarely take notice how they work side by side?

Courage to put them on with great expectations for safety, healing, and memory of the wound.

Courage to take them off when it's time for such wounds to fill with sun, fill with wind, fill with water
When it's time to step back into life.

Do now - do later - no guarantees.

Leaving the iridescent green tape on the limbs reminded me of the traumatic snowstorm my precious tree endured.
It spoke of my good work and of my care.
It also told me there was more to do, but I preferred to ignore that part....

.....until today when I knew it had to be done and so I began -
Cutting, pulling, coaxing, even asking the bandages to give way
And in their unraveling the gaping wounds became exposed
Something akin to healed bark appeared in some areas, but not all.

I touched the deep wounds with a little prayer
It's time to stand on your own, I said
It's time to take the sun, the wind, the rain and even the winter snows.
You've healed enough to do this.

You are free to fully breathe again
No longer restricted by green tape and bandages

I have no idea what the tree wanted in this whole matter
But in my all knowing human way I decided it wanted to live
It might have become quite accustomed to the bandages, too,
Just as grieving humans are apt to stay in our caves, wrapped in our symbols of pain, and expecting the rest of life will always be exactly like this.

Until ---
Someone takes the time and shows the courage needed to remove the bandages, lead us to the next step of healing, tell us that we're worth something again.

Until----
We come together and say to each other --

I know what it's been like --
I know the grievous  wound beneath your bandages --
I know the courage it's taken just to survive --

Until ---
We say to each other

Here,
Let me gently remove all this stuff so you can breathe again -
Let me ease the path still fraught with surprises
Let me take your hand and reassure you that as the bandages come off
You will stand in the sun, the wind, the rain, the snow and be alright.

The wound, of course, somewhat healed over
Will always be present -

As will I.

As will I.