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| photo by Hailey Toft |
Tree Corpses
An electric hum sounds off a warning that their community will die:
The breath,
The heart,
The life of the forest will fall,
One tree at a time.
Their corpses will be carried out in a retinue of lumber hearses;
Bodies piled high to be processed at the mill.
Cadavers to be butchered and fashioned into trophy furnishings for
Murderous hearts.
The forest will fall one tree at a time.
After the ancient ones are gone there will be an ocean of saplings;
But the new hope, a chance for life will be mowed over and encased in concrete.
Another highway for the parade of
Wooden bodies.
The breath,
The heart,
The life of the forest will fall,
One tree at a time.
No longer a sacred refuge. Their community will die.
I love this poem. Did you write it? I was trying to explain to my boyfriend yesterday why I couldn't condone getting a real Christmas tree. My mother taught me to think of trees in these terms. When I use paper it's not as in my face, so it's not as bad, and I am a little embarrassed of the excesses that my love of stationary supplies has resulted in in the past. These days I try not to buy new notebooks/paper, and when I do I try to make sure they are made of recycled materials.
ReplyDeleteI love this poem. Did you write it? I was trying to explain to my boyfriend yesterday why I couldn't condone getting a real Christmas tree. My mother taught me to think of trees in these terms. When I use paper it's not as in my face, so it's not as bad, and I am a little embarrassed of the excesses that my love of stationary supplies has resulted in in the past. These days I try not to buy new notebooks/paper, and when I do I try to make sure they are made of recycled materials.
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