Lights come up on Girl,
in a brown, torn dress, her body equally brown from sun and forest dirt. She is lying on the freshly-sheered surface
of a broad tree stump. It is the remains
of her mentor, Old Laurel. The trees around her are shifting projections of
green, orange and gold. They speak in music, a chorus of voices and chimes that
are solid like earth and light like pollen.
Trees: Soon is the time
when you move.
Girl
(a long, slow groan): No.
Trees: Yes, soon. It’s
almost time.
Girl:
I can’t. I’m too sad.
Trees: You are a
person. You move. Soon.
Girl: I was supposed to become a tree. Like Old
Laurel.
Trees: You will become a
tree.
Girl:
Not now. He was the only one who would teach me. Now he’s dead and I’ll never become a tree.
Trees: No one is dead.
Girl
(rises up on one elbow): Dead. You know what dead is. Not with us anymore. Gone.
Trees: He is not gone.
He is with us.
Girl
(angry, sitting all the way up): No, look. (Pounds her fist on Old Laurel. A
dull knocking sound). Gone. He was the only one who would help me, and now he’s
cut down.
Trees: He’s below
you. Look down.
Girl
(turns her head downward, trying to look through Old Laurel, through the dirt):
I can’t.
Trees: He’s there. He’s deep in the earth.
Girl (reaches to the ground, picks up a handful of sawdust, holds it against her chest): His roots. But they chopped down his body. They took it somewhere.
Trees: There is no body.
Some parts of us stay, but most parts of us go. Either way, they always become
something new. You are something new, too. And you will be something new.
Girl
(sighs, stares into the leaves and branches above her): You don’t understand. You
don’t understand what it’s like to be a person.
Trees: We will be a
person.
Girl:
I mean now.
Trees: Being a person is
like being hurt and thinking the pain is your life.
Girl:
We get attached.
Trees: You aren’t
attached. You move.
Girl:
I don’t know where to go.
Trees: You move.
Girl:
Old Laurel was my teacher. He saved me when I was lost in the woods, and he
showed me how to be a tree.
Trees: You will be a
tree.
Girl:
Not until I’m dead.
Trees: You can feel him.
You can
smell his sap. He is still with you.
Girl: Only if stay here.
Trees: You are mingled
together. You move and breathe him. His
life is in you.
Girl:
I don’t want his life in me. I want him
to have his own life.
Trees: There is no own
life. There is only life. We are all
part of the same thing.
Girl:
I don’t want him to be dead.
Trees: There is no
death. Everything is life. You will
move.
Girl
(a long silence): Okay. In a while.
Trees: You are a person. You move.
Girl:
Just a few more minutes here.
The projections around
her grow faster, brighter, their voices rising into a chorus. Dancers surround the girl on the stump,
jumping and swaying. Their movements form patterns, break up, regroup into new
patterns. The only still thing is Girl,
lying in the middle of the dance. The song is slow, but the music pulsates like
the quick heartbeat of birds.
Tree Song
No one is lost
No one is lost
No one is alone
Even when your trunk has
cracked
Your bark is stripped
Your branches dry and
broken on the ground
You are in the earth
You are in the air
You are life.
You are dirt and air
Water and light
Nothing can destroy you
You are wise, old, safe
You cannot be gone
You grow where you are
You are in everything
You are here.
You are here.
The stage is frantic with movement. The projections beat in time with the music, flash green and orange and red. The dancers whirl in circles around the spot where Girl was. But Girl and the stump are gone. The music changes, grows calm, comforting. The dancers crouch close to the ground. Girl’s voice can be heard as they dance.
Girl
Song
When I was stuck
When I was stuck
Under
a rock so heavy and dark
I
thought I’d never lift it
I
dreamed of green leaves
And
branches stretching up to the light
A
tree grew from under me
Lifted
me from the dirt
Stood
beside me as I stretched up to the sky
Now
I have to be my own tree
Find
my way to the sun alone
It
will be scary
But
I’ll remember the lesson of trees
I am never lost
I am never lost
I
am never alone
I
am in everything
I am here.
I am here.
The music grows louder again,
quickens. The dance is orderly, in rows,
circles, spirals. The order disintegrates, scatters, reforms. Girl and Old
Laurel have joined in, dancing in joyous patterns, wearing the clothing of
trees.
Trees: No one is lost
Girl:
When I was stuck
Trees: No one is alone
Girl:
Under a rock so heavy and dark
Trees: Even when your trunk has cracked
Girl: I thought I’d never lift it
Trees: Your bark is stripped
Girl:
I dreamed of green leaves
Trees: Your branches dry and broken on the ground
Girl:
And branches stretching up to the
light
Trees: You are in the earth
Girl:
A tree grew from under me
Trees: You are in the air
Girl:
Lifted me from the dirt
Trees: You are life.
Girl:
Stood beside me as I stretched up to
the sky
Trees: You are dirt and air
Girl:
Now I have to be my own tree
Trees: Water and light
Girl:
Find my way to the sun alone
Trees: Nothing can destroy you
Girl:
It will be scary
Trees: You are wise, old, safe
Girl:
But I’ll remember the lesson of trees
Trees: You cannot be gone
Girl:
I am never lost
Trees: You grow where you are
Girl:
I am never alone
Trees: You are in everything
Girl:
I am in everything
Trees: You are here.
Girl:
I am here.
The patterns grown higher as the dancers lift each other, throw one another into the air, rise like birds up towards the ceiling. The lights become bright, brighter, until the greens become reds and the reds become orange and the colors become whiteness, and the dancers and stage and audience disappear into an explosion of light.
The patterns grown higher as the dancers lift each other, throw one another into the air, rise like birds up towards the ceiling. The lights become bright, brighter, until the greens become reds and the reds become orange and the colors become whiteness, and the dancers and stage and audience disappear into an explosion of light.
