Hope is Forever, an Allegory

/ michaelwynnauthor

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Proudly stood that solitary tree amid the ochre bricks and daisy-strewn lawns. It grew where the grass wasn’t mown; a magnet for kids from streets around, its arms constantly full of adventures enacted by marauders, happily distracted from the tedium of long holidays.
So we couldn’t comprehend the sudden death, lightning dealt our friend. The leaves crumbled and the lifeless branches humbled; it remained bare for five years and bound with barbed wire to keep the children down, who just climbed higher.
Until one spring, a sprout of green and branches swarmed again with naive belief and that prodigious disregard for mortality.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

41 thoughts on “Hope is Forever, an Allegory”

  18. You’ve taken an ambitious concept and achieved some fine results. I agree with Moon; that last line ‘… naive belief and that prodigious disregard for mortality ‘ is excellent.
    I am interested in the rhymes – crumbled/humbled and wire/higher. You’ve set them in a rhythmic structure that approaches poetry. Was that the effect that you were trying to achieve? It’s an intriguing experiment.

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  20. Thank-you for your comment. I try different things most weeks to see what works. Sometimes the line I think is a cracker gets ignored and everyone comments on a different one. This is actually the story of a tree we used to climb as kids and which I wrote a poem about. (If you’re interested it’s under this comment. I’m not sure about certain bits of it.) I used some of the poem for this FF. It actually happened as described, when they thought it was dead, the adults put barbed wire around it but that just helped us climb. Sadly once it was back to health they chopped it down to build a house.

    Let the Children Climb

    Oh how proudly stood that solitary tree
    Amid the ochre bricks and daisy-strewn lawns
    Of the housing estate, that was home to me.
    An old oak of countless bright dawns,
    It grew at the corner of a patch of ground,
    The only place where the grass wasn’t mown,
    And where youth could collect from streets around,
    To play together and be left alone.

    Seldom were its arms empty of adventures enacted
    By marauding children, happily distracted
    From the tedium of long holidays
    And television documentaries.
    It saw fights and sights withheld from adult eyes
    And seemed to flourish on our joyful playtime cries.
    But we mourned and couldn’t comprehend
    The sudden, violent death, lightning dealt our friend.

    The leaves died and dried and began to crumble,
    The lifeless branches naked, humble.
    One defiantly pointing, accusing the sky,
    That now hid its tyranny in snow-white cumuli.
    Five years it was bare and bound with barbed wire
    To keep the children down, who just climbed higher.
    Then one Spring, a sudden sprout of living leaf
    And the branches were full again with naive belief.

    Unwind the wire, remove the cruel restriction,
    Let the children climb high on vernal conviction.
    The tree grows green, dressed with an old, frayed rope,
    Nourished with the irresistible power of hope,
    The savage intensity of our innocents’ loyalty
    And their overwhelming disregard for mortality.
    If we stay the rules, they will climb high and swing free
    Whilst they should, let our children suspend reality.

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