Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Cenotaph for Sanity

Alas, poor Tree I knew him well. Full branched, handsome, sweet fir-coned, he stood forty years tall. He was home to nesting songbirds and street-wise squirrels. He offered shade, cool shade, on a sun drenched day and oh, to catch his scent upon the wind was to sigh for. Yet, one day, the man-across-the-street who plays piano chopped him down; and, upon his stump, the man-across-the-street who loves to garden placed a pretty pot of pink petunias adorned by a plastic winged ornament with a long black beak.
I cry for Tree and Songbird and Squirrel. I cry for Wind and Sun and Me.


Blogger Tamar said...

My hibiscus died in the move from Buffalo to Philadelphia and I mourned it so. This beautiful piece reminds me of that time.

I weep with you.

Blogger Gemma Grace said...

Tamar, I feel your arm kindly wrapped around my shoulder. Thank you ~

Blogger Akilesh said...

Trees are beings too. While we face and allow what is, we still cry when our friends fall.


It is a rare gift to be able to unconceal richness and depth hidden within common, everyday experiences of the human heart. Thank you.

Blogger Wandering Willow said...

I feel the same way when I observe the death of trees. They are so old and wise and do so much for the world. It really hurts when I see a whole race of beings - the tree nation - being slaughtered in an unacknowledged genocide.

Thanks for voicing my feelings.

Blogger Sylvia said...

Hello, and thanks for the link. :)

My landlord does this sort of thing--turning something natural and beautiful into something artificial and ugly. It makes no sense to me and it is painful to watch.


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