Let`s Not To Be Straight Poem by Bireswar Halder

In a weed-strewn orchard, a little tree raises
Its head through thorns and hurdles around
The bushes and saplings curiously stare at it,
Starved it is, for how long will it be stunted?

The tree starts growing slowly and steadily
The curved trees get envious of its steep growth
And starts whispering to each other to wreak its downfall
Plotting a design with the woodcutter to hack its progress.

The tree feels happy to be a canopy to birds and animals
And to be stretching shadows for the passersby with a smiling face
Its joy is in helping others by its cooling comfort and soul-stirring smile
The trees not blessed by a steep rise revengefully huddle into a lobby.

But the tree faces up to all calumnies and threats
Alone and powerless, it chooses to be silent
It negotiates with odd storms and thunders
Gamely it survives, standing tall, with pride in its heart.

The woodcutter once finally comes, he nods to its steepness
But starts slashing at its roots to ghoulish smile of the curved ones
They are happy today with logs of the tree stilled on the ground
They brag - 'We, criminals will be victors everywhere'.