irrelevance by Kim Clarete
A poem on the silence of trees.
First published in Pandan Weekly in August 2025.
From the author:
We were en route to a waterfall tucked away in the heart of an island in the Philippines when this poem came about. Reception weakened as we moved away from the circumferential road, which quickly narrowed into sinews. In the middle of nowhere, our rental car’s navigation screen froze; we still had a couple of kilometers to go.
I remember getting out of the car to ask for help from the locals; instead, I saw tree after tree after tree flanking the road we were on, forming a verdant archway. It was just me and the trees. It hit me then: These trees are fixed to the land. They don’t roam around like we do. They don’t care about GPS. They’re just there in that corner of the earth, unconcerned—just drinking up the rain and the sunlight, stretching up and out, and witnessing whatever there is to be witnessed. That’s relevant, no?
A big leafy thanks to Rex, Jelina, and Steph for their kind words and thoughtful input on this poem; to SEA Lit Circle for this space to share; and to the trees of the world, of course, for existing in this lifetime with me.
Listen to the author read her work:
the tree outside my house never tells me anything: not its age, its name, or its favorite look. it doesn’t tell me what time of day the sun sets its soul on fire. it doesn’t tell me what it’s like to catch the sky’s tears and tantrums in its dexterous arms. it just stands there: mane shaggy, spine twisted, rudely unbothered by etiquette— saying nothing most generously.
Kim Clarete is a Filipino dancer and dance teacher based in Quezon City, Philippines. She currently performs with Daloy Dance Company and teaches dance at the University of the Philippines - Diliman. When she is not in the studio, she enjoys reading, writing, traveling, and moon-watching.
Instagram: @kimclarete
Substack: kimclarete.substack.com
Thank you for reading!
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This poem made me smile :) It feels like the tree's gift is its presence. It is all there, in all it is—it allows whoever gazes upon it their own musings about its secret life, and in that it way, it allows itself to be a mirror. Last line is my favorite! "Saying nothing most generously" :)