Gentle Giant - poem



*This was published in SOULFUL RAMBLINGS AND OTHER WORLDLY THINGS, but will be re-released in the upcoming book MISS LAVENDER'S ANTHOLOGY OF RAMBLINGS.



 Lovely branches,
The limbs are shorn, lopped off by heartless men,
Thieves of beauty, like those who disturb consecrated ground.

I weep for the trees, the fine yet hard surface of their depths,
The massive arms stretching out to hold us as Mother Nature does.

The earth must tremble with disdain at this,
Should punish and maim the blind agents of our despair.

Commodity has altered our purpose,
Our origins.
We have succumbed to the final capital gains.
At what price?
At what cost do we say we have attained pleasant comfort?
At the sacrifice of breath, of livelihood,
Should we really dare to destroy that which made us,
Provided us humbly with gifts?
Why seek to destroy our souls for creature luxuries?

I weep, I beg for compassion.
Please understand, dear critters,
dear structures,
dear Mother.
We are a wasteful, stupid lot.
Can we know better?
Why, yes.

Even the spiders reuse,
Even the sloths and birds treasure their homes.
We love our temporary dwellings,
Not so stationary as massive destructive metal contraptions ruin the moment,
The pleasant symmetry we had.

I cry out, I grieve for yon simple creatures,
Critters, insects in the earth.
Your home has fallen in ruin.
I weep for that which is gone,
For the humongous brown and green leafy foliage that once was,
That was a simple, beautiful embryo,
Little seedling in the days of old.
Gone back to the time of my great great grandfather and beyond.

But, times moved on and the child became wise and large,
Wisdom was ingrained and sought after with greedy hearts.
And then like something shallow and useless,
our elders were thrown away.
Elderberry, Elderwood,
Elder blossomed into a great thing,
Then to dust,
Made into spindly, decrepit stumps and sold off to the highest bidder,
Overlooked in its splendor.

Oh, useless silly limbs, reach out and tear the hearts that made you thus.
Perhaps gain some recompense for what was done.
Find some peace, dear tree.
And one day, those blind, unseeing souls will beg you and your Mother for forgiveness.
The abandonment was committed,
Now the sinner should pay.
In what form,
I leave that to your discretion.
Forgive our imbecilic,
Fiscal plans.

I weep for your life,
Your history.
And I kneel, humbly asking for your Mother’s permission,
To start over.
A new beginning,
A beginning without destruction,
Only peace.
And Mother can be herself.
Thank you for this chance, dear spindly limbed thing.
Thank you.


http://www.amazon.com/Soulful-Ramblings-Other-Worldly-Things-ebook/dp/B009B4TYTY/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1390806782&sr=8-3&keywords=Heather+Crouse

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