A Tree Poem Poem by Rumpa Das

This year is different -
The man told his woman
As they sat in my shade,
And I casually waved my slender leaves
To fan them and their tired progeny
In that scorching summer afternoon.

This year is different -
A few men discussed with others
As they lay languid under the dark deaf sky
And I tried to shake a few frail branches
On the hapless hungry humans
Seeking succour and peace on a monsoon night.

This year is different -
A couple of men pushed and shoved themselves
On a screaming young girl, uncovered even by leaves
And I tried in vain to help her -
To save her from the villainous clutches
As they finished their work and set her ablaze
Much before the festival of lights.

This year is different -
Microphones blared and banners flew from my bare branches,
And men and women with covered faces
Listened to voices, muffled, stifled, sinister.
I barely moved a leaf and kept wondering -
Will you spare me and mine this year?