Lessons from a Withered Tree

Looking out of the window

At the withered tree

Wondered I

Why is it still standing firm and high?

I pitied its state

For it bore no fruits nor flowers

The leaves, too, had abandoned it

Making it lonely and desolate

The grief swallowed me

Knowing had that been me

I would have died before death

If all I loved abandoned me

The wretched face, the bare branches

Made my heart sink

I wished it died soon

For only death could ease it from its shrink

But the undaunted seed

Refused to weigh down its faith

And continued to linger on

With no intent to concede

Quietly it stayed put

In the dismantled shape

Withstanding all the hardships

Until one day…

A tiny leaf sprouted

From one of its branches

Like a silver lining striking

Amidst the dark clouds

The reward of endurance it soon reaped-

The leaves and the flowers

Embraced the tree

Which could no more be called ‘withered’.