Dappled sunlight a soft path Fragments of light and shade played catch beneath the lively birch leaves.
A hush hung delicately in the air.
So many goodbyes. To fathers and sons left to fight To a country To one’s language.
For Alina, this was the toughest goodbye. Yet not so at all.
They didn’t understand.
She wasn’t being difficult, as her aunt claimed. She wasn’t a baby, as her sister teased her. She wasn’t like the rest of them.
Her Mama understood that.
These kept her safe. Three grasped tightly in each hand. Knuckles white at times.
She wasn’t a baby.
She knew she was five. A big girl.
But the pacifiers had been her rock. Soothed her as explosions shook their home protected her as Mama forced a way for them through the heaving stations.
These helped her sleep on the trains in the cars from strange beds under unfamiliar blankets.
To home. Her new home.
Alina ran ahead, flitting onto the beach jumped up on a rock arms akimbo feeling free.
Shells, of the sea variety, picked, pocketed Later painted.
Next a left, then a right. She’d arrived at the tree.
The whispers meandered up the path, weaving between the tree trunks carried by the warmest of breezes.
‘She’ll never dare … … it’s too much for her.’
But Alina realised at last. The pacifiers, these pieces of plastic, never were her rock.
Here was her world.
They were her everything. Mama, Sestra and Titka. Her family Her father - her Tato so far away.
Pinks, blues, yellows, reds Clusters of the rarest decorations hung on ribbons from the birch branches.
One lone pacifier waved hello Ten or more bunched up for safety.
Not a sound.
The air shifted next to Alina. One became four.
Stillness filled her being Sublime peace.
It was time.
‘Up there, please. Lift me up!’
Glancing up they saw it too the perfect branch the sunshine lighting it up.
On a yellow and blue ribbon dangled her six rocks her six pacifiers.
Let them fly here, highest of them all In this nook in this sanctuary.
Hi Annika, This tree is almost surreal. I had a visceral reaction to your poem, since all Mothers and Fathers can relate to the importance of a pacifier at times. Yet, you have helped me imagine the emotions of ‘a big girl.’ For me, I think about the concept of letting go, in general. I always enjoy your beautiful, creative, imaginative writing, Annika. 💕 Erica
Erica, that feeling of surreal upon seeing the tree struck me too – I had to do a double-take and check out what it really was, what were dangling from the branches. So odd yet so beautiful. Immediately I knew I wanted to write about this but taking the farewell to another level. Letting go is such an important part of life, I agree but can be very tricky, fraught and an upheaval yet liberating as well although one might not appreciate that until a bit later. Oh yes, I can imagine all parents can relate to this moment or something similar in their child’s life. Erica, thank you so much for your wonderful comments about my writing and it means so much to know that it touches you deeply. hugs xx ❤️
Annika, this poem touched me deeply. I live a few blocks from the ocean, and when I was walking by it the other day, I thought about how, by only pure luck, I was given the luxury of being able to stand there and admire the beauty before me. So many people are fighting for food, water, shelter and safety right now. They’re fighting for their lives. And I got to just stand there and observe with no fear or worry that anything bad would happen to me. That privilege is never lost on me and I am grateful that it is here I was born. It will never make sense to me how the world can be so beautiful yet so unfathomably cruel. I hope all the children suffering right now have something to hold onto. Thank you for writing this, my friend. xo
Tanya, I am in tears reading your reflections and I see we are are of the same heart and mind. Your thoughts reflect my own deliberations, upon a quiet sea shore, out and about my daily life. Two words stand out for me, ones that I relate to hugely. The luxury we experience in life, in our safety and security and what a privilege this is to so many of us and never to be taken for granted – yet I so many do! The news is full of so much pain and here in Europe we see the families starting afresh, a move they would never have contemplated two and half years ago. These emotions were swirling in my soul as I came upon the tree … how there are so many grades of farewell. Thank you so much for your moving comment, Tanya. Xx
What a beautiful poem, Annika! It’s tough to bid farewell, whether it’s forced or done willingly. Your exploration of themes resonates universally, but the emotional impact is always intensely personal. Brilliant write!
Wow! Khaya, your comment has me beaming and humbled – thank you so much! I love it when my work manages to capture the whole bigger theme yet presents it directly on an immediate personal level, thank you! 🙏
Dear Annika
we like your virtual fare well tree. We saw wishing trees in the South but that’s our first fare well tree.
Thanks for sharing
The Fab Four of Cley
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
How lovely, Klausbernd! 😀 Now is just have to see a wishing tree and be equally inspired! Many thanks for your lovely comment. Wishing you all well, Annika
Thank you so much, Ann! 😀 Maybe you could start a ‘binky’ tree in a beautiful place in your neighbourhood to encourage the little ones to find the courage to say farewell to them? Although your grandson might need to be a tad bit older! 😀
Debby, goodbyes are indeed such sweet sorrow – I love that this tree has become a special place of reflection and symbolic of leaving one’s early year, of taking responsibility, for being brave! So glad you enjoyed the poem! xx❤️
Wow! Resa, thank you so much for you thoughtful comment! 🙏❤️
I know, I’d never heard of tree like this and realised I had to include the photos to convey what it looks like in real life! I love the concept, giving young children the opportunity to take the decision to say goodbye to their beloved pacifiers, to be brave and in the process it becomes special in this beautiful location.
As soon as I started the poem story I wanted to make it more than about an every day child and thought of the hardships for so many recent arrivals in our part of the world. Courage on a whole new level and I agree, makes the action of giving up the ‘rock’ / her ‘crutch’ even more poignant.
It brings to mind the A. A. Milne quote: ‘You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.’
btw. I was out in town yesterday and saw some street art – you’ve encouraged me to keep an eye for this and might post about some of them one day! Thank you!
Ritish, thank you so much for your wonderful comment – it means a lot that you find beauty in the midst of the description of Alina’s frightening past. Seeing the tree I stopped in awe and glad to convey this unique sight with tenderness.
That’s wonderful, Radhika! As you know, a writer wants to touch the heart and mind of their readers and so happy you feel the tug of this story poem. Thank you so much!
Wow, I love the narrative of the poem and the pacifier tree!!! It reminds me of when we moved from Michigan to California when my daughter was 2.5. She was down to her last pacifier (a certain brand with a certain shape nipple) and somewhere in Arizona she threw the pacifier out the car window (on the freeway). Bye bye bawah.
Beautiful and heart-felt. How difficult it can be to leave behind something, someone, a place, a home that has a special place in our heart. A pacifier? a home? Who can tell what is of most significance? Whose loss will be more deeply felt? Some lose everything, except the hope they carry in their heart.
Norah, your comment reads like a poem and I love how you capture the loss, the emotional upheaval, fear and yet, finish with the hope – we should never lose that and it was a natural end to the poem.
That is a very touching and beautifully written poem. It brought to life what Alina’s and her family’s life could have been. A Farewell Tree, what a beautiful idea.
Thomas, thank you so much! The tree is such an imaginative idea and I love that it inspired this poem story. There is such upheaval for so many finding themselves seeking safely in new countries – the fear and loss found its way into my story poem and hopefully a brighter more confident future awaits Alina and her family.
What a wonderful descriptive poem Annika , and such a wonderful way in which to let go of those pacifiers…. I remember my mother saying I accidently threw mine, and it landed in the fire… That was that… that was my Farewell Fire tree lol.. 🙂
I never gave my children them.. they had their thumbs instead 🙂 Love the Tree Annika… ❤ xxx
Sue, exactly! I love that saying farewell to the dummies becomes a ceremony in a way, giving the children a way to take control of the decision and grow up a little bit more. My poem story developed it to a heightened level!
Haha! I’m giggling over your poor dummies and your mother’s imagination! Mine were ‘accidentally’ forgotten at the start of a holiday as we drove to Spain! Oh, I still remember my weeping (to my embarrassment) but two fun weeks later upon my return home i just threw them out!
The tree is unique and I felt a mystical ethereal atmosphere around it – wonderful! Hugs xx ❤️
Beautiful poem, story, photos, the whole idea of figuring out what is important. So much truth and depth to this piece of writing. Thanks for sharing it here.
Ally, thank you so much for your wonderful comment and it means a lot that the depths of the poem story shine out. To find the courage to give away one’s rock at any stage in life is hard, and so much more for a young girl who has already gone through trauma and starting life anew!
Annika, you find inspiration everywhere – stumbling upon a passy-farewell tree in your native Sweden amongst iconic birch groves…penning a journey of growth for one who bid farewell in your poem. Sweet.
Bless! Laura, I love life for that, the inspiration we just stumble across in life – honestly, I would never have imagined a tree with these, so unexpected yet beautiful. I knew there was a tale waiting there for me to write away! I love your comment and thoughts, thank you so much. Xx ❤️
Your poem/story is so beautifully woven Annika with the yellow ribbon and pacifier as this not babe but 5 made her way. She is so delightful and your imagery bounces through the journey in such a wonderful way, I feel like I’m there. That pacie was a gift to her through the trips she travelled by distance and heart. Maybe because one of the grands can’t ever go without it and when they put her to sleep they throw 10 in the crib so she won’t go without one. My other one uses her thumb which I’m so grateful for.. lol
Cindy, I love and am deeply touched how you are there in the poem, walking with the family among the birches, on the beach to this unique tree on this momentous day for Alina – all through the ‘bouncy imagery’! 🙏😀 It’s great you feel the hope for the future … just what I wanted to convey in a world filled with so much hopeless and despair.
Haha! I’m smiling at one of your grandchildren with 10 pacies (great shortening!😀) in her crib – it won’t be long until she’s tottering around the house with them bunched in her hand!😀 Wishing you well. Xx ❤️
Oh that’s a lovely image to remember and your words give rich meaning to the daily life encounters and moments with these sweet grand babies and Alina! You did just that giving hope to the world in it’s hard times right now. So much so that I will keep it in my notes and teeth on.
Oh my, that sounds about right. Good I have the 3 second rule cuz I’m not washing them.. Keep that a secret.. 😂💓💗lol
I was fascinated by the story this poem tells–even more fascinated by the “binky” tree. Alina was a brave little girl to give up her transitional object and take the first step into the next stage of her childhood. Just lovely.
Haha! Liz, the trouble the word for these gave me! I read up that some called them binky, here in England dummies, in Scotland dokey, in Sweden napp, soothers in Canada! I settled for pacifiers! 😀 Liz, thank you so much for your lovely and thoughtful comment. One can feel hope that Alina, having found this courage and understanding, will do well in life!
Wow, I just read the most beautiful poem today! The words were so moving and resonated deeply with me. It’s incredible how poetry can capture emotions and moments so perfectly.
Poetry has that magic ability to succinctly reach into the heart of a topic straight into the readers soul- I’m just at the very early stages of exploring this genre.
This is so beautiful. And unique! Where The Mister and I grew up, there was an old tree outside town with shoes hanging from it. Everyone knew about the tree, and it was even featured in our local paper once, years ago. No one seems to know where the shoes came from. They were all ages and styles. It’s a mystery. 🙂
Kymber, that’s exactly what the tree reminded me of at first – trees and power lines strewn with old trainers etc! It is strange that the local community cannot find a reason for their appearance. Reading up it seems it can be anything from graduation to memorials. Initially I was sad to think the pacifier tree was for babies born asleep then much happier to read it was to make an occasion for toddlers to leave their ‘crutch’ in life behind! The poem story took me in an unexpected direction!
Lori, as soon as I saw the unusually decorated tree I knew I had to write about it – I just wasn’t sure whether it would be factual, fiction and then became this poem!
A tender and compassionate poem, Annika. I could completely understand the sense of safety and comfort Alina gained from the pacifier, it’s meaning in her life so much more than its function. And what a lovely feeling to recognize it’s no longer needed. Beautiful.
Diana, thank you so much for your lovely thoughts about my poem. It means a lot that it touched you so, felt the significance of this occasion. One hopes that this new insight and courage will help Alina, and the family, to flourish in their new futures.
Exactly, Barbara! Especially when she felt these had got her through such a traumatic time! Thank you for your lovely comment and great that you enjoyed my post!
Brad, thank you so much and your thoughts mean a lot to me! I particularly wanted to make sure there was a flow and rhythm to the piece – so glad you thought so!
Jacqui, I wanted to portray the various tensions and battling emotions for Alina and I’m glad that these have come across! I wonder how many recall the angst over letting these pacifiers go?!😀
Oh my goodness…such a beautiful poem! I love the Birch trees. My father was born in the Bronx, New York, but his mother brought him to live in Finland. They were Swedish Finns. He often talked to me about the forests and the Birch trees of his childhood. He returned to America as a young man. My mother gave me some beautiful paintings of Birch trees in Sweden from her grandparent’s home. I can see how this lovely tree could inspire you. Somehow, the Birch trees are so graceful…so awesome with their silvery bark in the snow. It is wonderful that you paired a deep sadness with a beautiful thing in nature. It inspires hope and the courage to go on. Both trees and people must brace themselves against the storms of life.
Linda, wow! Your comment, thoughts and reflections are wonderful – thank you so much! Your love and understanding of the amazing birch trees are fantastic. How lovely that you have such affinity and family history to Scandinavia and these majestic trees. The silver is not just in the bark but also in the early Spring, before the leaves appear, it is as if a silver halo adorns each and every one. This tree is in a nature walk on the islands to the west of Gothenburg and plenty of birches here. Further up north where we stay in the forest there is a wonderful mixture of birch, pine and spruce – oh, the sounds of the trees during storm is intoxicating. No wonder your father loved them so and he must have missed them on his return to America. Thank you so much for your beautiful thoughts about my poem story and I am especially touched how you pick up on the dichotomy of the wonder of the trees with the harsh experiences as they fled the war. Your final sentence says it all: ‘Both trees and people must brace themselves against the storms of life.’ Just so.
I love your description of the birch trees! I also have a cross-stitch painting of the birch trees that was done by one of my great-aunts. So much work goes into each of these heirloom keepsakes. Between the bright blue sky and the trees, it is breathtaking. You are blessed with these visits in the Swedish forest!!!
A lovely poem depicting the devastation of war and displacement on children, and how they deal with it. It tugged at my heart. Where did you find the tree?
Darlene, it means so much that this poem touched your heart. I hadn’t realised how much the news was affecting me until I came to write this – the theme seemed to choose itself! I came across this tree on the lovely island of Honö off the West Coast of Sweden. From the beautiful cemetery by the sea there is a nature walk and in the midst of the birches came across this unique tree. I was inspired!
Such a beautifully moving poem, Annika! That important shift to figuring out what’s important and what isn’t, whether that occurs under onerous conditions or not, is one of life’s essentials, and unfortunately not all of us ever completely understand that.
The pacifier tree – I’ve never seen that before, but such a wonderful trigger for your poem.
Lynette, thank you so much for your comment and deep reflections. How true that not all of gain such insight about our own lives – I feel that those under such terrifying upheaval might grow up faster than ever.
No, I had never come across anything like this either. As the walk is near the cemetery at first I feared it was to commemorate babies born asleep but reading up saw this is a new way to encourage toddlers to be brave and part with their pacifiers!
Kate, thankfully this is not my life and I’m blessed with growing up and living in safety and security. So, this is fiction, inspired by the tree – the only personal element is the six pacifiers – I had these far too long!!😀
lol even better writing then, no wonder you related to the pacifier tree 🙂
I tired of my youngest brother sucking his way too long so I put it in a neighbour rubbish bin, he would have taken it out of ours, and told him the birds had taken it … thankfully his forgotten that …
Annika, you have me tear eyed. So much beauty, sensitivity, , trauma. All expressed so eloquently in one excellent poem
you do so strongly express the inner and outer pain of what is happening. Alina’s personal courage to give up her pacifiers. The mother’s and family’s voyage.
Alinas freedom and joy with shells from the beach replaces the ones she and the family lived with.
Miriam, thank you so much for your heart-felt and heart-warming comment. Your final line touches me deeply, the dream is for the world to find such peace! It means a lot to me that you see and feel the duality of the poem, of Alina’s emotion, the impact of the frightening events in her young life. Wishing you a great start to the week, hugs xx ❤️
Annika Perry 
Hi Annika, This tree is almost surreal. I had a visceral reaction to your poem, since all Mothers and Fathers can relate to the importance of a pacifier at times. Yet, you have helped me imagine the emotions of ‘a big girl.’ For me, I think about the concept of letting go, in general. I always enjoy your beautiful, creative, imaginative writing, Annika. 💕 Erica
Erica, that feeling of surreal upon seeing the tree struck me too – I had to do a double-take and check out what it really was, what were dangling from the branches. So odd yet so beautiful. Immediately I knew I wanted to write about this but taking the farewell to another level. Letting go is such an important part of life, I agree but can be very tricky, fraught and an upheaval yet liberating as well although one might not appreciate that until a bit later. Oh yes, I can imagine all parents can relate to this moment or something similar in their child’s life. Erica, thank you so much for your wonderful comments about my writing and it means so much to know that it touches you deeply. hugs xx ❤️
A lovely narrative!
Thank you so much, Dawn! 😀🙏
Beautiful, Annika… Poignant and powerful on so many levels.
Bette, bless! Thank you so much for your kind words! 😀❤️
Wow. I was not expecting that to turn out quite so literal, Annika. Nicely illustrated. 🙂
Thank you so much, Betsy! It’s fun to be inspired by what one comes across during outings!
That would certainly be a thought-provoking tree to come across, just begging to come up with a story behind it. I get you. 🙂
This is so beautiful. I am so emotional ❤️ 🥺
Thank you so much, Anoushka! 🙏
Annika, this poem touched me deeply. I live a few blocks from the ocean, and when I was walking by it the other day, I thought about how, by only pure luck, I was given the luxury of being able to stand there and admire the beauty before me. So many people are fighting for food, water, shelter and safety right now. They’re fighting for their lives. And I got to just stand there and observe with no fear or worry that anything bad would happen to me. That privilege is never lost on me and I am grateful that it is here I was born. It will never make sense to me how the world can be so beautiful yet so unfathomably cruel. I hope all the children suffering right now have something to hold onto. Thank you for writing this, my friend. xo
Tanya, I am in tears reading your reflections and I see we are are of the same heart and mind. Your thoughts reflect my own deliberations, upon a quiet sea shore, out and about my daily life. Two words stand out for me, ones that I relate to hugely. The luxury we experience in life, in our safety and security and what a privilege this is to so many of us and never to be taken for granted – yet I so many do! The news is full of so much pain and here in Europe we see the families starting afresh, a move they would never have contemplated two and half years ago. These emotions were swirling in my soul as I came upon the tree … how there are so many grades of farewell. Thank you so much for your moving comment, Tanya. Xx
What a beautiful poem, Annika! It’s tough to bid farewell, whether it’s forced or done willingly. Your exploration of themes resonates universally, but the emotional impact is always intensely personal. Brilliant write!
Wow! Khaya, your comment has me beaming and humbled – thank you so much! I love it when my work manages to capture the whole bigger theme yet presents it directly on an immediate personal level, thank you! 🙏
Dear Annika
we like your virtual fare well tree. We saw wishing trees in the South but that’s our first fare well tree.
Thanks for sharing
The Fab Four of Cley
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
How lovely, Klausbernd! 😀 Now is just have to see a wishing tree and be equally inspired! Many thanks for your lovely comment. Wishing you all well, Annika
Saying goodbye is definitely hard. Especially those that go unsaid. Beau poem btw
I agree, Jas, those unsaid goodbyes can haunt one. Thank you so much for your thoughts.
What a lovely story! I wish my two-year old grandson could read this. He still loves his “binkys” and I think the message would strike home!
Thank you so much, Ann! 😀 Maybe you could start a ‘binky’ tree in a beautiful place in your neighbourhood to encourage the little ones to find the courage to say farewell to them? Although your grandson might need to be a tad bit older! 😀
Love this! Very well-written and interesting to read. Thanks for sharing 🙂
Thank you so much, Lucy! 🙏 The tree was so unusual and I couldn’t wait to write a piece based around it.
Welcome back Annika. And what a gorgeous poem. Parting is always sweet sorrow. And I love the images that complement your words. ❤
Debby, goodbyes are indeed such sweet sorrow – I love that this tree has become a special place of reflection and symbolic of leaving one’s early year, of taking responsibility, for being brave! So glad you enjoyed the poem! xx❤️
Always Annika. Your writing invites us right in to story. ❤
❤️🙏
A lovely and moving poem Annika. The photographs are a wonderful addition to the poem. Great job!
Ernie, thank you so much for your wonderful comment – it’s great you liked the poem so much and I think the photos give a visual clarity of the tree!
Wow, Annika,
This tree really exists.
This is a unique way to say goodbye to an early childhood comfort. That makes your poem even more unique.
Still, as you say, it’s about so much more than a piece of plastic. It’s about growing up in a scary world.
The world you describe here makes the gesture of growing up most poignant.
Thank you!
Wow! Resa, thank you so much for you thoughtful comment! 🙏❤️
I know, I’d never heard of tree like this and realised I had to include the photos to convey what it looks like in real life! I love the concept, giving young children the opportunity to take the decision to say goodbye to their beloved pacifiers, to be brave and in the process it becomes special in this beautiful location.
As soon as I started the poem story I wanted to make it more than about an every day child and thought of the hardships for so many recent arrivals in our part of the world. Courage on a whole new level and I agree, makes the action of giving up the ‘rock’ / her ‘crutch’ even more poignant.
It brings to mind the A. A. Milne quote: ‘You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think.’
btw. I was out in town yesterday and saw some street art – you’ve encouraged me to keep an eye for this and might post about some of them one day! Thank you!
Aww, thank you Annika!
Crazy … courage begins at such a young age.
The A. Milne quote is very cool.
Oboy! Street art! Isn’t it exciting to find some. I’d love to see what your city is up to.
Thankyou for the lovely reply, and Yahoo! ❦🌹
A moving but ultimately uplifting poem Annika.
Andrea, one sees courage and hope all around us and I was happy to capture this at the end of the poem. Thank you for kind words.
Such a beautiful story!
Thank you so much, Jennie – so glad you thought so! 😀🙏
Alina’s story is heartbreaking but beautiful. The way you describe the farewell tree is so touching. ❤️
Ritish, thank you so much for your wonderful comment – it means a lot that you find beauty in the midst of the description of Alina’s frightening past. Seeing the tree I stopped in awe and glad to convey this unique sight with tenderness.
You write with so much soul and understanding of humanity.
Bernadette, bless you for this beautiful and profound comment, it means a lot to me. 🙏❤️
Such an endearing piece Annika. Loved the narrative and it just pulled a chord within for me.
That’s wonderful, Radhika! As you know, a writer wants to touch the heart and mind of their readers and so happy you feel the tug of this story poem. Thank you so much!
Wow, I love the narrative of the poem and the pacifier tree!!! It reminds me of when we moved from Michigan to California when my daughter was 2.5. She was down to her last pacifier (a certain brand with a certain shape nipple) and somewhere in Arizona she threw the pacifier out the car window (on the freeway). Bye bye bawah.
Luanne, I am so glad you liked The Farewell Tree poem and one never knows where we will find inspiration.
Oh no, your poor daughter, poor you – that must have been an emotional hour or two for you all after she lost her last pacifier!
This is a well-crafted poem containing a touching story. I’m grateful for your inspiration.
Thank you, Audrey and bless you for your lovely comment. I will try to keep sharing my inspiration! 😀
You’re welcome, Annika!
Beautiful and heart-felt. How difficult it can be to leave behind something, someone, a place, a home that has a special place in our heart. A pacifier? a home? Who can tell what is of most significance? Whose loss will be more deeply felt? Some lose everything, except the hope they carry in their heart.
Norah, your comment reads like a poem and I love how you capture the loss, the emotional upheaval, fear and yet, finish with the hope – we should never lose that and it was a natural end to the poem.
Such a kind comment. Thank you, Annika.
That is a very touching and beautifully written poem. It brought to life what Alina’s and her family’s life could have been. A Farewell Tree, what a beautiful idea.
Thomas, thank you so much! The tree is such an imaginative idea and I love that it inspired this poem story. There is such upheaval for so many finding themselves seeking safely in new countries – the fear and loss found its way into my story poem and hopefully a brighter more confident future awaits Alina and her family.
A little girl’s sad reality, beautifully imagined and brought to life, Annika.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful comment, Jo! Xx ❤️
What a wonderful descriptive poem Annika , and such a wonderful way in which to let go of those pacifiers….
I remember my mother saying I accidently threw mine, and it landed in the fire… That was that… that was my Farewell Fire tree lol.. 🙂
I never gave my children them.. they had their thumbs instead 🙂 Love the Tree Annika… ❤ xxx
Sue, exactly! I love that saying farewell to the dummies becomes a ceremony in a way, giving the children a way to take control of the decision and grow up a little bit more. My poem story developed it to a heightened level!
Haha! I’m giggling over your poor dummies and your mother’s imagination! Mine were ‘accidentally’ forgotten at the start of a holiday as we drove to Spain! Oh, I still remember my weeping (to my embarrassment) but two fun weeks later upon my return home i just threw them out!
The tree is unique and I felt a mystical ethereal atmosphere around it – wonderful! Hugs xx ❤️
Beautiful poem, story, photos, the whole idea of figuring out what is important. So much truth and depth to this piece of writing. Thanks for sharing it here.
Ally, thank you so much for your wonderful comment and it means a lot that the depths of the poem story shine out. To find the courage to give away one’s rock at any stage in life is hard, and so much more for a young girl who has already gone through trauma and starting life anew!
Annika, you find inspiration everywhere – stumbling upon a passy-farewell tree in your native Sweden amongst iconic birch groves…penning a journey of growth for one who bid farewell in your poem. Sweet.
Bless! Laura, I love life for that, the inspiration we just stumble across in life – honestly, I would never have imagined a tree with these, so unexpected yet beautiful. I knew there was a tale waiting there for me to write away! I love your comment and thoughts, thank you so much. Xx ❤️
Your poem/story is so beautifully woven Annika with the yellow ribbon and pacifier as this not babe but 5 made her way. She is so delightful and your imagery bounces through the journey in such a wonderful way, I feel like I’m there. That pacie was a gift to her through the trips she travelled by distance and heart. Maybe because one of the grands can’t ever go without it and when they put her to sleep they throw 10 in the crib so she won’t go without one. My other one uses her thumb which I’m so grateful for.. lol
A lovely story with hope for the future.. 💕💕
Cindy, I love and am deeply touched how you are there in the poem, walking with the family among the birches, on the beach to this unique tree on this momentous day for Alina – all through the ‘bouncy imagery’! 🙏😀 It’s great you feel the hope for the future … just what I wanted to convey in a world filled with so much hopeless and despair.
Haha! I’m smiling at one of your grandchildren with 10 pacies (great shortening!😀) in her crib – it won’t be long until she’s tottering around the house with them bunched in her hand!😀 Wishing you well. Xx ❤️
Oh that’s a lovely image to remember and your words give rich meaning to the daily life encounters and moments with these sweet grand babies and Alina! You did just that giving hope to the world in it’s hard times right now. So much so that I will keep it in my notes and teeth on.
Oh my, that sounds about right. Good I have the 3 second rule cuz I’m not washing them.. Keep that a secret.. 😂💓💗lol
I was fascinated by the story this poem tells–even more fascinated by the “binky” tree. Alina was a brave little girl to give up her transitional object and take the first step into the next stage of her childhood. Just lovely.
Haha! Liz, the trouble the word for these gave me! I read up that some called them binky, here in England dummies, in Scotland dokey, in Sweden napp, soothers in Canada! I settled for pacifiers! 😀 Liz, thank you so much for your lovely and thoughtful comment. One can feel hope that Alina, having found this courage and understanding, will do well in life!
And then there was the precursor “sugar tit.” I think you’re right that young Alina will do well in life.
Wow, I just read the most beautiful poem today! The words were so moving and resonated deeply with me. It’s incredible how poetry can capture emotions and moments so perfectly.
Poetry has that magic ability to succinctly reach into the heart of a topic straight into the readers soul- I’m just at the very early stages of exploring this genre.
This is so beautiful. And unique! Where The Mister and I grew up, there was an old tree outside town with shoes hanging from it. Everyone knew about the tree, and it was even featured in our local paper once, years ago. No one seems to know where the shoes came from. They were all ages and styles. It’s a mystery. 🙂
Kymber, that’s exactly what the tree reminded me of at first – trees and power lines strewn with old trainers etc! It is strange that the local community cannot find a reason for their appearance. Reading up it seems it can be anything from graduation to memorials. Initially I was sad to think the pacifier tree was for babies born asleep then much happier to read it was to make an occasion for toddlers to leave their ‘crutch’ in life behind! The poem story took me in an unexpected direction!
Yes! That is so amazing about the pacifiers! I was so glad to read that the reason behind it was a positive one. I really enjoyed learning about this.
I love when you’re writing and that happens. Sometimes, the poems and stories just flow.
Such a unique place and idea. Perfect, fitting poem. 💗
Lori, as soon as I saw the unusually decorated tree I knew I had to write about it – I just wasn’t sure whether it would be factual, fiction and then became this poem!
Great job.
Hi Annika, this is a lovely poem about overcoming change and learning what is really important in life. Excellent.
Robbie, thank you so much for your lovely and insightful comment! It is exciting when a piece of work takes one in an unexpected direction.
Yes, you are right 🦋💙
A tender and compassionate poem, Annika. I could completely understand the sense of safety and comfort Alina gained from the pacifier, it’s meaning in her life so much more than its function. And what a lovely feeling to recognize it’s no longer needed. Beautiful.
Diana, thank you so much for your lovely thoughts about my poem. It means a lot that it touched you so, felt the significance of this occasion. One hopes that this new insight and courage will help Alina, and the family, to flourish in their new futures.
🙂 ❤
Awww, that’s such a sweet poem and story, Annika! Getting rid of any comfort item is tough stuff 🙂
Exactly, Barbara! Especially when she felt these had got her through such a traumatic time! Thank you for your lovely comment and great that you enjoyed my post!
What a touching and beautiful story/poem Annika! It grabbed me with the poignancy, flow, and rhythm.
Brad, thank you so much and your thoughts mean a lot to me! I particularly wanted to make sure there was a flow and rhythm to the piece – so glad you thought so!
Well done!
Delightful and tender story, Annika.
Pat, thank you so much – your comment means a lot to me. xx
My pleasure, Annika. Your welcome.
You bring back such memories. Those were a love-hate.
Jacqui, I wanted to portray the various tensions and battling emotions for Alina and I’m glad that these have come across! I wonder how many recall the angst over letting these pacifiers go?!😀
Beautiful poem, Annika.
Anneli, bless! 🙏 I’m so happy you think this – thank you so much!
It really is, Annika. I just didn’t add more thoughts about it because other commenters had already done a good job of that. Anyway, congrats!
Oh my goodness…such a beautiful poem! I love the Birch trees. My father was born in the Bronx, New York, but his mother brought him to live in Finland. They were Swedish Finns. He often talked to me about the forests and the Birch trees of his childhood. He returned to America as a young man. My mother gave me some beautiful paintings of Birch trees in Sweden from her grandparent’s home. I can see how this lovely tree could inspire you. Somehow, the Birch trees are so graceful…so awesome with their silvery bark in the snow. It is wonderful that you paired a deep sadness with a beautiful thing in nature. It inspires hope and the courage to go on. Both trees and people must brace themselves against the storms of life.
Linda, wow! Your comment, thoughts and reflections are wonderful – thank you so much! Your love and understanding of the amazing birch trees are fantastic. How lovely that you have such affinity and family history to Scandinavia and these majestic trees. The silver is not just in the bark but also in the early Spring, before the leaves appear, it is as if a silver halo adorns each and every one. This tree is in a nature walk on the islands to the west of Gothenburg and plenty of birches here. Further up north where we stay in the forest there is a wonderful mixture of birch, pine and spruce – oh, the sounds of the trees during storm is intoxicating. No wonder your father loved them so and he must have missed them on his return to America. Thank you so much for your beautiful thoughts about my poem story and I am especially touched how you pick up on the dichotomy of the wonder of the trees with the harsh experiences as they fled the war. Your final sentence says it all: ‘Both trees and people must brace themselves against the storms of life.’ Just so.
I love your description of the birch trees! I also have a cross-stitch painting of the birch trees that was done by one of my great-aunts. So much work goes into each of these heirloom keepsakes. Between the bright blue sky and the trees, it is breathtaking. You are blessed with these visits in the Swedish forest!!!
You’ve written a beautiful poem.
Neil, I’m so glad you think so, many thanks!😀🙏
Saying good-bye is so hard!
Absolutely, GP and so many mixed emotions at this goodbye!
A lovely poem depicting the devastation of war and displacement on children, and how they deal with it. It tugged at my heart. Where did you find the tree?
Darlene, it means so much that this poem touched your heart. I hadn’t realised how much the news was affecting me until I came to write this – the theme seemed to choose itself! I came across this tree on the lovely island of Honö off the West Coast of Sweden. From the beautiful cemetery by the sea there is a nature walk and in the midst of the birches came across this unique tree. I was inspired!
💖😊
Such a beautifully moving poem, Annika! That important shift to figuring out what’s important and what isn’t, whether that occurs under onerous conditions or not, is one of life’s essentials, and unfortunately not all of us ever completely understand that.
The pacifier tree – I’ve never seen that before, but such a wonderful trigger for your poem.
Lynette, thank you so much for your comment and deep reflections. How true that not all of gain such insight about our own lives – I feel that those under such terrifying upheaval might grow up faster than ever.
No, I had never come across anything like this either. As the walk is near the cemetery at first I feared it was to commemorate babies born asleep but reading up saw this is a new way to encourage toddlers to be brave and part with their pacifiers!
Lovely share
Many thanks, Tanvir! 😀
great ekphrastic … very moving!
Thank you so much, Kate! 😀🙏
pleasure, is it your life or fiction?
Kate, thankfully this is not my life and I’m blessed with growing up and living in safety and security. So, this is fiction, inspired by the tree – the only personal element is the six pacifiers – I had these far too long!!😀
lol even better writing then, no wonder you related to the pacifier tree 🙂
I tired of my youngest brother sucking his way too long so I put it in a neighbour rubbish bin, he would have taken it out of ours, and told him the birds had taken it … thankfully his forgotten that …
Haha! I have a feeling my brother would have liked to do the same to mine! 😀 He was fed up of me with them – understandably so!
🙂
Annika, you have me tear eyed.
So much beauty, sensitivity, , trauma. All expressed so eloquently in one excellent poem
you do so strongly express the inner and outer pain of what is happening. Alina’s personal courage to give up her pacifiers.
The mother’s and family’s voyage.
Alinas freedom and joy with shells from the beach replaces the ones she and the family lived with.
The tree is such a wonderful and beautiful way.
may the world find such peace.
Miriam
Miriam, thank you so much for your heart-felt and heart-warming comment. Your final line touches me deeply, the dream is for the world to find such peace! It means a lot to me that you see and feel the duality of the poem, of Alina’s emotion, the impact of the frightening events in her young life. Wishing you a great start to the week, hugs xx ❤️