Yesterday was Remembrance Day.

Last night the trees, in the wood behind us, went to war.

They shouted, pushed each other and waved their limbs.

Then they lashed out, snapped branches and bellowed

in fury, calling on the wind to hear their cries.

Small plants, crushed by debris, cowered.

Bushes, torn apart lay tattered on the forest floor.

 

The tangled debris shrieked in silence and no one heard.

The small plants lay dismembered, their sap drained away.

The shrubs shook their cracked and splintered branches.

It was noisy with frantic grief but not with sorrow.

Rain drops fell like tears but the dead were, dead.

 

I asked the trees. Why did you go to war?

Why cause all this suffering. Was it really necessary?

One tree said. “He used more than his share of the sun”

Another whispered “She pushed me.”

A third muttered. “I am different so they hate me.”

“Yes you are ugly and bent and we don’t want you here.”

 

How like men, I thought, Greedy, violent and thoughtless.

“Has this violence made things better. Are you happy now?”

“No,” shamefully they said, with heads bowed against the sky.

“We did wrong but it was their fault not ours.”

How sad I thought, so like mankind and I wept.

 
 

David Garlick, Sidney, November 12, 2006