The Speaking Tree !!

                                                                                                                    Dated: 19th November 2014

How I wish, there would be speaking trees in the backyard.

I would go to them every now and then to vent out all I have inside my mind, all that I have been protecting for so long and taking care of forever. It is difficult to be a good listener, more difficult to be able to take it all. While all the ones think that they could possibly bring their baggage’s to rest by me, they also realize how I have able to practice the fact of excusing all that I am devoured from.

I have a friend who comes to rest her baggage every now and then. I listen to her like a fairytale gone bad. She tells me as if she has been talking to the speaking tree. She finds hers here while I keep looking for mine. Another one comes to me when she needs to. Sometimes, those needs are from mind to material. From advices to adversities. From a pair of shoes to a pair ears. And then comes the time when they are not to be seen anywhere. They are not to be heard of as well. I know in my heart that they are happy and they are in good hands of happy times. I remain happy for them till they come across looking for again.

When I look around for a pair of ears, for a pair of hand to hold my when I am falling apart, I come to realize that they have forgotten what I have done for them, I have forgotten what they have done to me in return to make me stop going to them to find my speaking tree. With time all that I did not forget is how they have made me feel.

And now when I look back, I see that I only remember the pain and the sweetness is all gone. I only see their hunger and the fondness is all gone. I had waited for these friend to come back when I too need them around. I am waited for them to share my sadness and joy like I have done for them. This waiting, with passing of time has become a painful deed. I have not forgotten what they have because forgetting is also a painful thing to do. More painful is to know which one of the two I should do.

Pain is inevitable and to not be able to share it, to bear it all by myself is the feeling that makes me realize that love is so short. So here I am still looking for my speaking tree to whom I can talk about those bruises that hurt me the most and tear me apart wile I hide them from everyone and guard them to safety.

How I wish, there would be a speaking trees in the backyard.