My uncle took an axe.
“No...no! ”
the tree said.
But he didn’t listen
turned it
into wood
silent wood
that only found
its voice
again
in fire
cursing and spitting
at the dark.
I return
to the wood
gaze into
the nothingness where
the tree used to be
It’s ghost
gazes back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Full circle...tree...wood...fire...no tree...ghost gazing back. Being a lover of a good fire, I can't tell you how this made me sad...for I had never thought of the ghost of a tree before. I loved the line about the wood spitting in anger in the fire....your images amaze me!