A Relation's Death

What is the sound of a tree dying?

Men’s voices shouting over Wednesday morning chainsaws. The terrible thuds as severed limbs crash to the ground. The chipper grinding flesh and bone to mulch. Rakes collecting up bits of flesh.

More men’s voices, just before the trucks pull away with the body – cut and chopped and ground into pieces, leaving just an open wound in the Earth’s skin and a few scattered fragments of tree flesh where once stood a magnificent oak.

And the heart-aching onlookers who came too late to prevent their relation’s untimely death.  They who gather in a circle over the wounded Earth hug and console each other.  Through the tears a groundswell arises.  The tree’s spirit speaks through their hearts and they know what to do.  They gather up the fallen acorns and begin to plant.

patty love
Copyright 2009

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One Response to “A Relation's Death”

  1. Bonnie says:

    You’ve put into words what I’ve felt for years. The months when they cleared the “green space” for homes behind our neighborhood was wretched. It was a summer of arising to the sound of those saws cutting a hole in my stomach, hanging a lead shawl on my shoulders, and assaulting my mind like Chinese water torture. Blessed are the acorns, and all who gather them!

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