Taken down

Life flowing all through your limbs
little boys trying to be men

with chainsaws conquer a peaceful giant.

Like most friends you gave and required little
of us who benefited from your shade, your security,
your beauty.

They could not stand your beauty – it reminds them
of what they are not.

I wish they had even a teaspoon of grace – enough
to let living trees flourish. Can’t we settle for a tiny
compromise: leave trees alone – go your chronic way,
pat your puny self on the back and save chainsaws
for emergencies.

Pity the boy who sharpens his heart
with a machine.

I would like to walk away and leave sawboys
to their bloodlust, but destroying trees
destroys us all – the shared life is the only life
we have – otherwise we are only broken limbs
cut off from our roots worthy of little except microbes
that refuse to yield – we are made for worms – this
I learned sitting in the shade of a walnut tree
sixty feet high and growing.

Murder, by any other name, is murder.
To our shame, the boy who kills thrives
in our consumptive society.

I am of two minds: part of me wants his saw
to splinter in process, the vengeance
of wounded wood stake him to the ground
as a horde of angry walnuts thunder down
beating him, torturing him senseless.

Revenge is sweet.

But revenge never satisfies, and even when death
comes without justification, at least the memory
of living well, hard and upright in the joy of life
remains – this I learned sitting in the shade
of a walnut tree sixty feet high and growing.