O Ancient Being

O Ancient Being, you who towers above, tell me your name. I have long ago lost it, years before I was born. We call you Yellow Cedar and name you, Cupressus nootkatensis, but these are not yours.

Does your soul ring with pleasure when you hear me say it aloud or do you only remember the years gone by of pain and sorrow. Did you feel a shudder when Columbus landed on the eastern shores or was it only when Galiano explored your own, some 300 years later, that you knew what was to come. Did the pain come fast and sharp or did it build into a crescendo that haunts these slopes when night comes to fall.

In silence I touch your skin;

I listen deeply. I want to know your name.

I feel an abundance, a depth, a full and limitless knowing. 1000 years of knowing. You know who I am. You know my name. You know my deeds.

I cannot hide from you. In your presence, I cannot hide from myself.

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