The Evolution of a Poem: Genocide of the Trees

I wrote this poem based on events in my neighborhood, ones that continue. On the surface, the things happening include cutting down trees whose roots raised a few sidewalk slabs (other ways to deal with this!), repairing some bad spots in the streets and curbs, and installing ramps at corners for those with physical disabilities.

As a shaman who communicates with the Elements and nature, the elimination of the trees bothered me. I gathered remnants from all I could and held a ceremony to honor them, which was an awesome experience. The following poem evolved over the course of the last couple months. It’s powerful because the trees speak of way more than a neighborhood decoration. So much to learn if we learn to listen.

Photo by Dillon Kydd on Unsplash

Genocide of the Trees

It began simply enough, to those not paying attention, to

Dull, heedless Humans, those slow to hear. The

Trees knew something was amiss, but not that some

Humans had death in their souls when the

Trees received the shock of bitterly cold, orange spray

Paint in a bullseye circle, prominent on their ancient

Trunks — (maybe it was as much a badge as a bullseye).