The cold winter air flows through the barren forest as snow descends from the sky, collecting and weighing down on branches. The snowflakes drift down, twisting and turning the entire way until their weight, their burden, is added onto the tree’s. Most trees can bear this burden. They can ride it out until the burden fades away. Some trees cannot. Their branches snap under that burden. Sometimes they even fall over, killing them. Snow buries and kills the small plant life on the floor, so the trees must bear the burden, saving at least some of the remaining life.
Ash plays with the wind just like snow. The flakes twist and turn. But they don’t excite those who view them coming down. They are a reminder of death. They are what is left of that life. But that dead life, once it drifts down, can help new life grow faster by being consumed. Perhaps that’s why we made urns. So we aren’t reminded too harshly of our relative’s demise, but also to not lose them to the Earth. However, urns themselves can be a burden, which is why some may wish for their ashes to be spread and recycled back into the ecosystem.
In the end, both ash and snow have their burdens, and I do not envy the day I must choose whether to bear the burden of death, the burden of memory, or to instead risk bearing the burden of the forgotten. Either way, I must one day bear a difficult burden upon my branches, just as the trees must bear snow during the winter.
The burden of ash
Can be hard to bear wisely.
May your branches hold.