© 2018 Barbara Grace Lake


Huge creatures crashing through my grove
Perhaps unseen they’ll pass me by
They are so big and I’m so small
Oh, no, one foot directly up
It’s coming down. It’s crushing me
Into the earth, it’s smothering

All living things are running wild
The lightning, thunder deafening
I smell the scorch of burning trees
Not me, not yet, please let me grow
A bolt of hell fire strikes the ground
My branches burn. It hurts, it hurts

The river’s rising to my feet
I send out roots to hold the mud
But can they grasp? One just let go
And now another one. Dig deep
Just hold, hold mud, hold earth, hold tight
If not our life will wash away

Two thousand years and more I’ve lived
To grow immense. three hundred feet
My shady paths give life to ferns
Green carpet grows abundantly
When looking up men cannot doubt
They’ve sensed a godlike majesty

My girth provides for many home
Ten men it took to measure me
For cutting saws? They shred the air
I hear the screams of sister trees
Now at my feet, the saw’s first bite
It slices–and it’s killing me.