The Tree That Would Not Turn
This year the maple by the condo complex
stayed fresh and green beyond October, odd
as an old woman in a flowery dress
standing lonely at the buffet table.
Good, I thought. Defiance. A declaration
of freedom from the universal law
of inevitable decline. Why should it be
that all things hasten toward their end? I take
no comfort in the witness of such blather.
It was, in fact, disease. When I passed by
today, nothing, a brown circle in the grass.
The wiser ones who cut it down knew best,
and my imaginings did not apply
| Conrad Gellar |
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levelheaded: The Tree That Would Not Turn
In the microcosm of the poem, “This year” is exceptional. It is the final year of the titular tree’s life. It is the year of the writing of the poem. It is a stand-in for the speaker’s ever-changing present. At the same time, the speaker places “This year” at the end of a continuum normal years – years that may not have been disrupted by a diseased tree and the subsequent broodings on death.
The revelation that the tree is diseased and not, as the speaker hopes, actively defying autumn is central to the structure of the poem. When it becomes clear that the tree is diseased, our reaction is an odd combination of surprise and knowing. Like the speaker, we trust the tree’s survival is a consequence of life in a whimsical world. We think we’re in for a bit of surrealism. If we are disappointed, our disappointment parallels the speaker’s disappointment. If we’re brought back down to earth, we nod along with the speaker. In our disillusionment we might say, “Of course the tree isn’t magical. Of course, the tree’s uniqueness is a symptom of its closeness to death.”
Truth is, the tree isn’t unique. It can’t be the first tree to suffer from this disease, or it wouldn’t have been cut down. There’s something about the not-so-oddness that works. The speaker compares the tree to an “old woman.” Neither woman nor tree are actually free from the “universal law / of inevitable decline.” The woman – notably wearing a “flowery dress” – is used to reflect the “Defiance” of the tree. But she is a central tragic figure as well. If the tree and woman can be compared in their glorious, green uprightness, they can also both be found in “a brown circle in the grass.”
What does it mean when we lose faith – when our “imaginings” no longer apply? What does it mean when scientific fact undercuts what may have otherwise given us hope? “It was, in fact, disease,” the speaker concludes. And we share his disenchantment. We feel the chagrin left by the erasure of his daydream, by the imposition of his own emotions on an ultimately inert natural process. We may admire a tree that will not turn. We may admire the uncompromised, the strong, the tenacious. But are we willing to examine what it means when it’s those traits that lead to death?
The poem captures a personal reckoning with the inevitability of death. Details like “condo complex” and “buffet table” root the poem in the real world. But the poem also calls to mind broadly felt crises of faith caused by modernism and scientific progress. We can believe what we want, but it’s always possible for unseen “wiser ones” to sneak in and show us our beliefs are fantasies.
-The Editors
