The Memory Of Trees Poem by Oisin Silverhare

One summer's eve as the sun did set,
In a lovely azure sky,
I passed a church remote and quiet,
So, I paused to rest thereby.

I sat by markers to life so dear,
And watched as the birds flew by,
When the faintest sound came to my ear,
Whispering somewhere nearby.

I turned around to seek of the cause,
Why the silence was broken,
Two ancient figures made me to pause,
But none who could have spoken.

No one there I saw that made me freeze,
A human soul, saw I none,
Behind me stood two large ancient trees,
Aflame from the setting sun.

The first I saw was an oak so strong,
A patriarch to behold,
A girth so vast and with boughs so long,
Its life of centuries old.

Beside it stood a yew truly grand,
The countless years it had seen,
A tree nearly as old as the land,
Still looking healthy and green.

As I sat there and wondered who spoke,
Then the whisper came again,
The sound I heard had come from the oak,
Then from the yew a refrain.

Someone's playing tricks on me I thought,
The source I went to attain,
But searching finally came to naught,
My searching had been in vain.

I sat on the grass between the trees,
And emptied my mind of sound,
Silent I sat in the gentle breeze,
No thoughts allowed to expound.

Then I heard the same whisper again,
Now louder and more distinct,
The oak was telling me of its pain,
Its sorrow and joy succinct.

'For centuries I've stood in this place,
People have come, and people have gone,
I've seen life and death and life renewed,
Felt joy and sadness for everyone.

'I've watched when friends became divided,
Families spit asunder by strife,
When civil war was unleashed on all,
A war that took many a young life.

'I've seen deadly illness sweep the land,
Vile illness which could not be withstood,
Graves are filled with the family's young,
When few survived until adulthood.

'Wars came again and all the youth left,
All to fight for the good of the land,
Very few of them ever returned,
Just a graveyard marker now does stand.

'Now few people even pass this way,
Lives are longer, and beliefs have changed,
But still some do come and sit a while,
To sit and rest in a sacred place.'

Said the yew, 'I have lived much longer,
I was born before the church was here,
When people came here to celebrate,
Nature and the cycle of the year.

'A time when the land around meant life,
People depended on its largesse,
When the Spirit of Place feed the tribe,
And here people worshipped the goddess.

'This place has been a reverenced site,
From a long time before I was born,
When people honoured the pagan gods,
And fires were lit from dusk through to dawn.

'People reverenced the land around,
Killed but thanked the animal's spirit,
All food was a gift that deserved thanks,
Offerings were made to provide it.

'Now all that has radically changed,
Reverence for the land has declined,
People no longer respect the earth,
But there's a new spark that is aligned.

'Some people have renewed the old ways,
brought a reverence back to the earth,
Love of nature and the joy of life,
Is once again being given birth.'

I listened to tales of love and strife,
And said I could understand,
The path I followed respected life,
I would help protect the land.

Numerous people have strength of will,
And will try with all their might,
To heal the world of all of its ill,
And keep the candle alight.

I bid the trees farewell and long lives,
And I thanked them for their tale,
"I will find people of kindred drives,
Of your words to take avail."

I left them there and know we must try,
This our only world to save,
We must strive to not let the earth die,
We must change how we behave.