A Green Plea - Poem by Erin Friend
For millenniums we have lived in coexistence, growing in harmony, our two races, side by side. We provided you with shade from our leaves, with food from our branches, with wood from our trunks. In return you took only our weak, old, injured, or ill—you did not needlessly kill.
It was a balance that was as simple and continuous as the flow of a river. It was a balance that was never meant to be disturbed.
But every year you destroy us—last year it was 39,536,861 acres: this year it will be much more. You, who come with your cruel sawmills, and chainsaws dripping with black gasoline blood, to tear us from our mother-soil; to burn us with your devouring fires.
Don’t you realize what you are doing! Stop and think—we implore you!
The world is no longer young, no longer pure. It is tainted with your stink of carbon dioxide from your Mercedes-Benz E350 4matic wagons and colored by your landfill derived methane gas (which ironically enough, we ourselves release as we pass) .
Al Gore would concur that countless chemicals and toxic wastes float errantly through your atmosphere, without our canopies and branches to keep them here.
We offer only good intentions towards you, yet you simply slaughter us; hack up our children with a smile—a foolish smile residing beneath eyes lit with guile.
“Where else can we graze the cattle? Where else can we grow our corn? ” says that smile.
“How will we build and provide for our future children, without making room for them, without wasting your bodies in endless plastic Poland Spring water bottle caps or Hammer Mill paper stacks? ” This, your world leaders, Obama, Sarkozy, Cameron, Medvedev, and the rest, can attest.
Oh you two legged fools! You have not used your heads. Think back to how we once shared this world—we can do it again.
Within our leafy depths we hide the last secrets of the world: Paclitaxel, Monocrotaline, and Irinotecan, aid in curing your terminal diseases—new foods, like winged beans, with which to feed your growing masses. Save us my friends and we will save you, who are stuck in a limbo world of super-size-me-please expanding horizons and sizes.
Tell your leaders to strike up a bargain—the time for negotiations has come. Embrace the paradox of paying you local Home Depot to preserve us—to reserve us.
Hear the cheers of your farmers as they watch the ever cheapening prices of their wares, rise once more as they come back into demand—now that there is less available farm land. These are ideas I’m sure many will support and understand.
Who are we? We are the trees—and the trees are imploring you please!
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