The Walnut Tree
I planted a walnut tree in the desert
hoping it would flourish.
I gave it all my attention.
Tending to it
day and night.
I asked what it needed
to thrive.
While roasting
under the scorching sun.
It stood in silence.
No matter how much I watered it
its branches stayed frail.
Only producing a few wilted leaves
and no fruit.
Its stunted growth told me
I was asking the wrong question.
No amount of effort
can make a walnut mighty
in the desert.
No amount of effort
will turn down the sun,
entice the rain,
or warm the black heart
of the desert night.
I knew the right question.
The hard question.
Was I willing to uproot it
from the bone-dry earth.
Leaving a gaping hole
like a lost tooth.
Transplant it to the forest,
where it’s root system would grow strong
naturally interlocking
in a harmonious
give and take.
The ecosystem effortlessly providing
the walnut
exactly what it needs.
It’s branches growing thick
and heavy with nuts.
It’s seeds taking root,
multiplying.
Was I willing to take it
from what it knew
so it could become
what it was meant to be?
The fullest version of itself.
