The four trees in Taiwan

As the day became night.
I saw four trees.
And thought of you and me.
And religious conservatives and my mother.

On the left, the tree grew at a slant.
Then bending 60°.
Grew another slant in a different direction.
Barely keeping its weight.
Barely keeping its center of gravity.

I saw that tree and thought of me.

In the Middle.
A tree grows perfectly tall and straight.
With branches extending in every direction.
Full and lush leaves.
Standing firm.
In open embrace of the sky.
In open embrace of life.
Too Full to be narrow.
Open in every way.
Abundant, balanced, perfect symmetry.

I saw this tree and  thought of you.
How perfectly perfect you were.
How open to life, and yourself and others.
How abundant in charm, talent, and joy and sense of self.

The next tree, look like it was falling.
At a severe bent.
Unstable.
The weight of its branches and leaves unbearable.
It's trunk twisted and writhing.
Choking itself in turmoil.

I saw this tree and thought of my mother.

The last set of trees, looked exactly the same.
They were tall and straight and smooth.
Without long branches.
Only little ones, on the very top.
Like little tufts of hair, with palm size leaves growing at its ends.

I saw this very last tree – and thought of "perfect religious institutions"

          Where everything is either black or white
          Where dogma triumphs over compassion and acceptance
          Where conformism is treasured and viciously protected
          Where individualism can be seen as a threat ...

          It's institutions.....

All very straightlaced, very proper and very uniformed.
No outward flaws.
No openness, or extension to the world.
Set in its ways.
It's perfection seem to be missing something.
It's bare.