GROWTH RINGS Deng Hainan

The arc lines
Grow in layers imprisoned within the bark,
With a seed at the circle’s center,
Rings spreading like ripples across the lake.

In the end they are set hard by the chain-saw’s incision.
No sighing, no growing,
Silence.
Yet annulations have not been erased.
Like a cerebrum,
Everything that has been experienced has been stored in these whorls
Though they can neither sing nor tell tales.

The rain’s moisture,
The snow’s caress,
The chirping from the bird’s nest in the branches
The roar of the thunder and lightning overhead,
The black bear’s embrace,
The woodpecker’s kiss.

And more,
Much more…
Memories like air
Melodies like spring,
But there is only
Silence.

As the glade rotates,
It spins the record around
If only there were a needle
Which by tracking the grooves
Could excavate, resuscitate
The song of life that should not be silent.