From Wild Love, 1996, by Nancy Wood (unpublished) The tree bent, but did not beak. The river swelled, but did not flood. Fires raged, and in the seas, the great fish died. All was desolation and ash. Yet the earth survived with the patience necessary for survival and her wounds healed, slowly, for she was meant to continue, against all odds. Women tend to notice such persistence. My worn-out path with you is dangerous, and I have fallen often, bruised and angry, certain that I should go on my way alone. As the river needs a rock, so do I need you. As the tree depends on sunlight, so do I depend on you. That is why I am holding on, even when I think of letting go.