Tale Of The Old Black Tree Poem by B3k Baylon

“Why so gloomy child? ” I heard someone spoke from behind.
I looked around but there was no one there but me
“Pardon Sir? Please show yourself, If you don’t mind…”
“I’m here. The silent witness, ‘tis I…the Old Black Tree.”

I looked in awe at the big dark stump that called itself a tree
Dumbfounded and scared I was, and wondered what became of thee
The once majestic shade of green, now looks like a pitiful debris
Withered the branches were, like souls writhing, struggling to be free

“Don’t stare, It ain’t polite. So what brought you here,
In this desolate place which time might’ve intentionally forgot? ”
“I don’t know…I was just walking, wandering, thoughts not clear…
How I came upon this cursed place, where the Angels tread not…”

“Ah poor Soul…can’t you see and feel? A tempest raging from within.”
With a gust of the wind, The Old forsaken timber spoke with a laugh
I glared at the Thing annoyed, retorted in spite almost hissing…
“You think you know me? Then pray tell…otherwise I’d call it a bluff.”

If this Thing have a shoulder & a head, I could’ve sworn It shook with mourn
“Don’t be stubborn, foolish child. You know very well your heart’s desire…
You battle Life head-on, filled with angst from the day you were born.
And now the hate has become your ally, thus leaving your Spirit torn and full of spite…”

“You always say, ‘It don’t matter’ for every worry that comes your way,
People came and went, most loved you and some did not…but still it ain’t enough.
So you go on in this crusade, ‘The world don’t really care, so I’ll make ‘em pay! ”
You gave ‘em pain, you made ‘em suffer, and left ‘em who won’t fight back in a huff.”

“Laughed in glee whenever you see those poor victims cringing in misery…
None of ‘em knew, that you…miserable little wretch, are a prodigy from Inferno.
Now you wander all alone, trying to find yourself…hope forlorn and weary.
In pity (which was welcomed rather sarcastically) , I…the Old Black Tree spoke…dared to.”

Trembling with anger, I lashed back at this Thing who calls itself a Tree.
“Who are you to tell me what you know of Me? You poor incarnation of an inanimate Creature! ”
“I needed no one while the harsh Reality we all call Life raged on, so why call a plea?
Like most of them I suffered, I bled, I got hurt too…but nobody cared, I know for sure.”

“Those you said that loved and cared are nothing but a maligned herd.
They are but people who live by the rules, cared for naught but impressions.
And even If they did take notice of me, It’s only because I’m a progeny of an odd breed.
I am a walking contradiction, I scoff at stereotypes, them puppets living in shelves…”

That Thing, gave out a roar of bitter laughter as if amused, its monstrous roots moving…
“Listen to yourself ye selfish li’l shrew…you really don’t know anything about what’s true.
People loved you as you are, and some hated your guts…but for you, It all meant nothing.
Sure they might have done so for the wrong reasons…you see, they’re all human… just like you.”

“Puppets? Child, they’re anything but…all they did was love, something you couldn’t do.”
“I live and love by choice. I don’t let people tell me what to do! ” I snapped back at the Old Tree.
The Old Thing answered with a sigh…”It doesn’t mean you can hurt ‘em just because you chose to? ? ”
I looked down and said in a whisper…”I did no such thing, If I can’t Feel, then I am Guilty.”

“Is it my fault I loved myself more? ”, I asked…biting back the tears of sorrow
With compassion, the Tree answered, “It’s not, but still it’s not an excuse to be less human.
Look at your feet…it’s calloused, bruised, and smeared with blood…don’t you know? ”
My feet…thought I… “Rough roads. Shards, thistles, and carcasses. I’ve been to no-man’s land.”

“Calluses and cuts my dear…those were all from the bits and pieces of debris you stepped on.
Like the pain and suffering some people gave you, it stung…but made you invulnerable.
You are now better equipped for the harsh terrain ahead, can’t you see li’l hellion?
But the blood, those were from the hearts and souls of those you unknowingly trampled.”

Time seemed to stop, nothing but deafening silence. The gentle Zephyr touched my face…
I stared at the creature, an Old Black withered Tree…and I don’t know what happened to thee.
This Thing may have been from the recesses of Doom, came to Life to condemn my ways…
I glared and searched for contempt and hate, and to my dismay found only Woe and Pity

Two things I most hate…In anger, I furiously kicked at it like a stubborn child of three.
This Thing! Didn’t even budge an inch or two…for a moment I thought It’d hit me back too.
I slumped down, hurt and defeated…sobbed and wailed, a wounded animal wanting to be free.
In despair, I screamed…”You insignificant Imitation of a Tree, who and what made You? ! ”

To my surprise, It did respond…a deep shudder coming from within, a groan of deep sufferin’.
The branches trembled, the roots shook…carrying the black dirty grimy earth beneath.
It heaved…”Foolish Child…you of all people should know. It is I, your poor spirit grievin’…
Now I’m not lying, I am your own Frankenstein…your very own monster, can you believe it? ”

I stared at the dreaded beast of a Thing, wondering how it’s me and how it’s been.
Gasping for cold air, I clutched at my chest…felt something, and winced with protest.
“Behold Dearest…the angry slash of cicatrix, where your heart used to rest from within.
You ripped it off in haste, an irksome organ you said…ain’t nothing but a pest!

So off you went to the Middle of Nowhere, heart in your hand and armed with a shovel.
Dug the Earth ‘til your palms bled, you didn’t stop ‘til the spade hit the rocky bed.
Determined to be rid of this Thing you call a waste, dumped in the Pit…yes, like Hell!
From the mound of earth, out came a being which, resembles everything that’s Dead…”

In shock I can’t help but lament, this Old Black Tree is…I mean was, part of me.
This pitiful Thing…I left to fend for itself grew big and sturdy, yet its presence dreary.
Now I stand before it, crying bitter tears so melancholy…this Thing I called a Monstrosity.
The creature who calls itself a Tree, here to censure me…Its words full of loathsome irony.

I knelt and touched the roots that reached out to me…now I know what became of thee
A pathetic imitation of the Living…thought I. So angered by this cynical Thing leering…
Blinded by spite, the Sin in sight…everything uttered and done was all my own tragic Prodigy.
Whom to pity the most? This Old Black Thing of a Tree, or I, an empty shell of a human being?