TO A ONCE MIGHTY OAK

 

The heartwood has rottted, the tree must come down.
Our families watched her grow
Since we obeyed the crown,
Since we slaughtered the Buffalo,
And dragged the Red Man Down.
The tree has been here Since the slaves’ first years,
Since the first of our wars caused its share of tears.
This citizen, now laid to rest,
Now sharing the fate of so many forests,
Survived disease, drought and wars.
Despite weary limbs, it stood tall and scarred,
Proudly defiant, over the town she stood guard
Our tree fell long after it died,
Weakened, unseen, on the inside.
But fewer cared to reason why
Than found cause to weep and cry.

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One response to this post.

  1. Beautiful prose

    Reply

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