You stand sentinel to man’s longing –
Pressures of life lifted by yours.
Your time must come, indeed,
When all Life will mourn your passing –
The passing of greatness unequalled on earth,
For you, trees, are our guardians
Though we know it not fully now.
This time shall come upon us when it’s too late
For regrets, remorse, looking back,
And then shall mankind cry
As My child cries with these words.
For all of Life is connected, loved.
The tree gracing her garden is to be cut.
Both she and her tree know this,
And tears fall.
Beneath the earth roots wither wearily,
Their arms cut, swathed, torn.
Goodbye to what was.
New growth will sprout once more.
The scars will remain
As every scar incised on skin –
Memory of Life destroyed in a moment.
Heather Green, 13 June 2014