Of Such Grain

He was as Lebanon cedar, arms stretched wide opposite directions, looking the same, moving differently— one reaching forward, providing; the other, at the back, creating shade. Every day he rose, feet planted deep, unshakable in his purpose. Patiently, enduring the changes in each season; weathered brown under the sun, cracks soothed by aromatic oil, shining. Time, moving quietly within the core, mistaken for the nature of aging. Gradually shrinking in the sunlight, his shadow began to narrow. Without knowing, the blight came, going through layers of his majesty before sinking to the root, splitting the resilient protector. Low moans of agony, a splintering crack, then— no more. Resting now in cedar, a pleasant fragrance reaching out from one end to the other; knots within, rich lines, a strong beauty, like my cedar.

Author's Note: Inspired by the phrase "He was as cedar," this poem reflects on the strong, silent duty of a man of profound character. In researching the Lebanon cedar, I found the perfect symbol for a husband's protective presence—unshakable, deeply rooted, and sheltering. While the poem touches on the heartbreak of a hidden illness, it ultimately serves as a quiet reverence for his enduring beauty, resilience, and the fragrant legacy he leaves behind.