A Tree Poem by Sumit Sen

Whatever I am today,
Is what You have made me.
I was a seed.
You made me this tree.

Now if I don't fruit,
You blame me.
And if I shake to strong winds,
You stare with eyes full of distrust.

Even the birds don't sit on my branches,
yet You cry for I don't blossom.
But I don't say a word.
How can I?
After all, I am a tree.

But what you can't see,
Is that You never watered me.
Never did you caress me,
with an ounce of manure.

You looked at me,
through the windowpane of your stone house.
But You could never see,
My leaves on the ground.
Those were tears.

The wind blew them away.
I was left naked.
The sun shone bright,
The clouds poured hard.
I tried to look up,
But I bowed down.
And then I rose,
As much as I could.
And then You cursed me,
For failing to do what I should.

You loathed me,
for my lean canopy.
But You always missed out,
To see the pain inside me.
I wish I could do something.
To You or to me.
But what can I do?
I am a tree.

Seasons came and went.
And You hated me more.
But still I stand.
With my roots clinging to your land.
With a bark starving of vanity,
And a gut full of shame and guilt.
After all, I am a tree!