THE TREE LYING MAIMED

 TREE LYING MAIMED
Tree, you sing in the darkness and light,
in the frosty days your wings delight.
Tree, your leaves scatter in the wind
the burdens carried in the mind.
We soar high, you and me till we lose sight
of all that ties us down
to the ground that we held so dear.
We shed our leaves, we are dry and bare,
so much less to carry
when the flight is up in the sky.

Once again O tree, speak again and let the wind
carry your whisper
far and wide.
And your scents of the mountains
will diffuse the clouds,
"Who is this stranger floating in the wind", they will say.
"And the sky is not a path for a tree to tread."

While still on the ground I see your stump and the scars that were hidden
now exposed.
So often I sat by you and asked
if I could feel you, touch and heal
the ancient wounds, dried up and hard,
wherein the blood scarcely breathed.

Wandering alone, clueless in these ancient woods,
I have seen beasts attack
for no reason that a human knew;
and I too have been torn apart
like you with no arms to save my skin or breath.
Monuments of the base instinct to kill
they lurk around in the dark.

My tree, even though stark wood you are,
you still breathe a better life.
I will sit here all through the night and pray
that those wild hunters may not come
this way again, with choppers and hack-saw under their arms
to cut out of you your live flesh
and parade in the markets as works of art