The Maple on Calder

By Jade Erickson

Before there was grieving,
there was a maple tree
that knew all our names.
I grew up in her branches,
where she held our laughter,
our curiosity, and our wonderment.
But her arms no longer
reach toward the sky.

You can never imagine
the last time you’ll stand
beneath the tree that raised you.
But the wind untied every limb
that I knew by heart.
Never asking permission—
mistaking our story for debris.

I never thought I’d outlive that maple.
I thought she would always be waiting there.
But the wind left a stillness
louder than the sirens,
with no blueprint to rebuild.

The maple taught us to climb
without the fear of falling,
that home can have bark
instead of a roof,
and that scraped elbows and knees
were a small price to pay
for memories that were too large
to fit in one photo album.

The maple tree taught us
how to come home,
the wind is teaching us
how to let go,
and the earth is teaching us
how to grow again. 

The maple on Calder Street wasn't remarkable because it was the biggest or oldest tree. It was remarkable because it held my childhood, being a witness to our lives. It was there for ordinary moments that became the foundation of who I am. It taught me that places can raise us without even speaking. After the July 2026 tornado destroyed both the tree and much of the neighborhood around it, I found myself mourning something difficult to explain. This poem is about how places—and sometimes a single tree—can become part of our identity, and how their loss reminds us just how deeply we are rooted in home.I wrote this poem because I believe trees don't just grow in the ground—they grow into us.

Through poetry, I’ve found a way to cope with life’s struggles. I’ve turn them into strength through language. My inspiration comes from my personal experiences, other artists, and the beauty of the world around me. I hope my work resonates with you and gives you a glimpse into my journey.