when in the city

[for my friend j.p who gave me the prompt: living in the city but hating it]

It’s so cold.

It’s so cold and I am naked, for the whole world to see.

For all the Men who come and lean against my body as they take their cigarette break, their smoke killing me slowly.

I am scared of their fire.

For all the Children who come and throw snowballs at my back, whom I become both a refuge and a target for.

They do not understand.

For the birds who did not make the migration that come and perch onto my arms and my shoulders.

Perhaps they understand the loneliness of which I feel

in this city.

There are no more of my kind for another 50 mile radius… which would not be a problem if I was able to move. But I am stationed here, in the middle of central park, standing tall as ever with branches that reach far and wide but, touch nothing. The winter storm has taken all my clothing, leaving cold snow to pile up upon me.

All around me are the smaller trees that have been planted in rock. Their roots are as shallow as their purpose– to be an organic aesthetic in a place where there it has been stripped of nature. I remember the times that these streets, these buildings, and the man-made space around me was teeming with life. Green grass, trees of my kind, all embracing one another in a bold yet gentle harmony. But ever since the Men killed us off, one by one, every tree was replaced by a building and every grass patch was uprooted then covered in concrete.

These small, foreign trees, they chatter. They show off the Christmas lights that are still on them in February that were hung on them in the middle of November after they have shed their clothing, red, yellow, brown. Like prostitutes they show off their lights, beckoning People to come and take a closer look– that is, if People per chance look up from their glowing screens. They barely do that, People. They are stuck in their minds all day about what they need to do in an hour, in a day, in a month. During the spring time when I would marvel at the sky taking a breath of new life, glowing as it stretched out its arms in the warm sunlight, People still walked quickly, only focused upon their next destination.

One time I laughed in delight because I saw a bird take flight for the first time. I had been watching a nest of birds as they grew to the age of flight, and when I saw the Mama push her baby bird off my branch, I saw a look of terror in Baby bird’s eyes that turned into courage that turned into joy. In my laughing, a few leaves fell upon a Man who was walking past me. It got into his cup of coffee and he looked up at me, swearing, unable to see how lovely it is to be able to fly.

What a shame.

The city — where everyone takes for granted the constant beauty of the world because they are so focused on the things that they continuously construct for themselves. Every winter, I am reminded of this, as I still stand here cold as ever, lonely, silent. I will patiently await for Spring time, for the Sun to embrace me in his Rays.

Hello?

I heard a voice.

Hello? Can you hear me? Please help…

A weak, little voice whispered into the cold, windy streets.

The People walked by, nonchalant, unable to hear the little voice.

I’m here– I called out. Where are you?

Down here…

The little voice replied. I looked down, and there was a small, small dandelion weed, right next to one of my surface roots.

How did you survive, little one?

I got carried by the wind, and planted myself into the soil next to you because it seemed safe.

But how did you sprout so early? It is still winter.

It is because I could read the thoughts of the People, and saw how they only looked down, but never around, and I wanted them to see the beauty of nature. But even after I bloomed, they never looked! Some even almost stomped on me! And now I am here, and I have bloomed to early, and oh Mr. Tree, I do not want to die before my friends bloom in the Spring!

How much more time do you have, little one?

I do not know… The dandelion replied, and let out a weak wail. It is so cold, Mr. Tree! I do not think I have much time left!

I thought… and I thought. And I thought some more with the might of all my years that I have lived. I thought about how I do not have family. I do not have children. I have seen the children in this park, how they run into their mother and fathers’ arms, protected in their embrace. I’ve seen elderly embrace their loved ones, and pet owners embrace their dogs. This thing of embrace that I have not yet discovered the magic of– yet one thing is for certain, is that there is a warmth that comes with.

I felt an affection for this dandelion, as though I have known it all the rings of my life. I love this dandelion! How this precious little plant could be so small but have such big dreams and big courage. With my large and old body, is it not time?

I looked at the People walking by, how they are so busy. So busy they are, oh how I hate this city, oh how I long to do something more.

Mr. Tree! The dandelion’s voice was getting weaker and weaker.

I stretched out my branches– who knew I could move them! I thought that I was stuck in one position forever– and gathered all my strength from within. The fake street trees started whispering urgently to each other, as they sensed a rumble from below, a shift in the soil.

What is he doing?

Something is about to happen.

Brace yourselves!

As leaves emerged from my branches and I felt myself bending down, down into the ground, the People stopped.

Mr. Tree! The People stopped!

They looked, mouths slightly open, with wonder in their eyes. 

The lower I bent down, the more I could feel a snapping sensation in my back.

Mr. Tree! You will break!

A fully blooming tree in the middle of winter, in the middle of the cold, snowy winter, there I was. But it did not even matter to me anymore that the People finally looked up. It did not matter to me, what I hated, as I realized more of what I loved.

Are you warm now?

Yes… thank you Mr. Tree.