A tree falls hard inside the woods,
its thud reverberates across the forest floor.
When a tree’s cut down, at any age, on any stage;
It’s instant death, a broken neck, a heart attack,
when sliced by blade without a thought,
I have not hugged a lot of trees, and yet I wince
and turn away when they are being chopped down.
I never seem to get an answer, that really satisfies
on why they must be put to death, and why now?
All these thoughts bring me, to ponder my own mortality…
Will this next wheel’s turn, erase me from the book,
the one, not made from trees, but made of Life?
The book of the living soul, of loving, learning and creating?
I think it’s not an outrageous question, at this point in time,
Looking all around me, I consider, this forest of humanity
and everyone and everything that seems to be so vulnerable
and no one knows who will be next and marked for felling.
January 9, 2021
Night before last, I was sound asleep, and woke up, repeating,
these first two lines in my mind:
“A tree falls hard inside the woods,
its thud reverberates across the forest floor.”
I wrote them down, as one never knows what the muse might want to say:)