I am a tree

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Ali P.
by Ali P.
13-Jun-2008
 

My name is "Sarv".

I am a tree.

I bet you didn't know trees have names. I am, like you people, someone's offspring. I do look and act like my parents.

I had a good childhood. Good food, good water, lots of sunshine. Then, suddenly black clouds appeared from nowhere. Everyone thought it would never turn into a storm.

But it did. No one had ever seen anything like that. Everyone paniced , but it was too late. Strong winds broke many branches and many trunks.

The wind pulled me off the ground. I thought it would never happen.

It was painful.

I suffered some minor injuries. I didn't care about my branches; they will grow back. I was worried about my roots. They were not strong enough yet.

Leaving parts of my roots behind, the wind threw me in a foreign land. I was glad I was on solid ground again.

The new land was kind to me. The trees around me looked somewhat different and acted somewhat different. I learned to act like them.

Once again, the water was good and the sun was shining.

It has been years since I have landed here. My trunk grew strong and solid. I look like just another tree. That's because you cannot see my roots. Some grew back and are holding my trunk, but the rest never did. The premise that some day, somehow, I will go back to the old valley slowly vanishes in front of my eyes, and with that, the rest of my roots are drying out, and dying, one by one.

My name is "Sarv". I am a tree.

Ali P.

* * * * *

 

I finally got to clean up some of my old junk out of my closet, and I came across this paper I wrote in college. I thought I'd share it here with all those who took English Composition 101, or are taking it now.

The first time I took ENC 101 in college, with Dr. Davis, I dropped it. The professor had us read Dickens and Faulkner, and discuss them. Too tough for me at the time. So I waited until I could get into Janet's class.

Janet was an ultra liberal, tree-hugging, peace loving Californian who didn't care much about all these dead writers. She was also kind of young, and cute, and insisted us to call her by her first name.She wanted us to write from the heart.

One day she had us go outside, pick something in the nature, and write about it right away in the class, and turn the paper in. That grade would be our midterm grade.

"Tree-hugger, huh?", I thought to myself."I'll give you something to hug."

* * *

This is what I wrote that day. Professor Davis would have thrown it in my face( telling me,"you are not a tree; you are a moron!") but Janet made some lovely notes on my paper , and gave me an A. I got a B in the class, and later took Comp II with Janet, and passed .

Whereever she is tonight, I am drinking a glass of wine to her.

( Although, despite all that, I never got my hug from the Tree-hugger)

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Tree

by APP (not verified) on

Some plants must grow in a specific atmosphere. There are species of trees in the Amazon that only grow in one valley or within a specific small plot of land. Move them anywhere else, and they will die. The roots can’t cultivate if the trunk is hollow, devoid of a soul. If one shuns spirituality out-of spite for the storm that moved him, no matter how he tries to compensate for that hollow void that gnaws away inside ... If one is deeply rooted in an amorous spirituality, regardless of any labels, then one is connected with his creator and drinks from the rich, nurturing soil of the Universe. One can be but a little desert flower, but when the dark clouds loom, that desert flower will call out in a guttural roar, square into the face of the winds: "I am just a desert flower ... I grow wilder, hour-by-hour ... no human cultivates ME ... I am Wild!"
... And the Storm passes quietly with respect.
(The Poem above is paraphrased from a piece by an Artist who’s name I cant remember)


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cool

by Kurdish Warrior (not verified) on

nice 1 bro...


Parthian

Ali P.

by Parthian on

Yo brother, that is one awesome piece of rhythm and rhyming, but that pic of yours make you look like a gangsta rapper. Wuss up with that?


Natalia Alvarado-Alvarez

Mehdi that was profound.....who knew?

by Natalia Alvarado-Alvarez on

Ali,

Lovely poem.

Solh va Doosti

Nadia


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Loved it

by niki not logged in (not verified) on

No matter why you wrote the piece, even if it was to manipulate your tree hugging prof into giving you an A, it is still a very good piece of writing. Clean, short and straight to the point. Deceptively simple. It reads like a fable. Thanks for sharing. Breath of fresh air among the other blogs.


ebi amirhosseini

علی جون

ebi amirhosseini


نثر روان و شیوای نوشته تو ( هر چند به زبانی غیر از فارسی ) ، شیراز و سرو شیراز  را به یادم آورد

سپاس بیکران

ابی


bajenaghe naghi

Ali jan

by bajenaghe naghi on

You also made me cry and I felt too homesick. Enjoy the wine. Janet and I talk about you and your story often. Zebel khoob esmieh baraye shoma.;-)


Red Wine

...

by Red Wine on

ali in chiza ro bahas beh farsi benevisi,intori behtareh, mamnoun .


Mehdi

Very nice

by Mehdi on

I think you are still you, no matter how many branches you lose. I think you are not even the trunk. You have decided you are a tree. But you could be anything - or nothing. You'd still be you! You cannot be uprooted, unless you decide that you could be.


Souri

Speecheless !

by Souri on

Wonderful piece. No matter who wrote it, it's a rare jewel.

Thanks for sharing this with us.


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zebel!!

by Mojgan- (not verified) on

When I started reading the essay I sympathized, felt sad, my eyes got moist and just wanted to give you a hug...
but after I read the rest and found out why you wrote that, it dawned on me: ajab zebelieh een digeh!!!