A View Of A Narra Tree Whose Branches Are Cut Poem by RIC BASTASA

there it stands tall beside a nipa house
its branches all cut
the climbing lichen and moss shall soon die
at noonday
wilting and stiffening
mummified on an early summer

when all the fingers are cut off
and arms stripped of hands
how can man be a man?

how can a tree be without leaves and branches?
how can moss and lichens thrive on such a cruelty

the nipa house triumphs and someone inside laughs
the sharp axe and the long bolo serve the purpose of the author
of this murder.

I loathe. I make this protest poetry.
Man murders nature unpunished.

No kind of poesy saves. Words are useless.
Metaphors are dead.