A Chopper Over My Heart Poem by Linda Hepner

Like a tree threatened in a wood
my heart is waiting, cannot walk
away. Roots deep it could
not even if it tried. We balk
at pity, reassurance, tree and I,
watching the woodsman with his ax
swing merrily to watch the woodchips fly
but when the trunk is sturdy, hacks.

The stag's respected, as the bird, the thorn,
each with defense against encroaching pain;
they put up their good fight and when they’re torn
from place and habit, make sure that they gain
their rightful place in history of woods
that could have thrived intact
without intruders fabricating goods
made from their roots and stacks.

The old tree like my heart is big and deep;
unlike the fabled ones that walked away
it stands and waits, not serving, not asleep,
it’s years belittled, price too high to pay.