Trees Poem by Sally A Mortemore

who owns these trees. who stamped their barks.
who claimed them. who stood them tall and designated
keepership. who schooled them. who gave them insight
to rise above each scar and twisted wood knot.
did anyone?
or are they self-enlightened. wisdom so innate
they have survived for centuries.
they blossom. multi-seed with onward forethought -
nurture youth from selfless ruin. and beneath their horny skins
they photosynthesise. like leaves.
water crawls each empty root cell. thirsts consigned to wait
for fresh new rain. for downpours. but see. when the sun shines
heat a wall of scorched suffering. each biomass drains
to the final dregs -
do we regret?
do we simply selfishly accept -
or just deceive
ourselves.
for we are their plunderers. invasion squads.
unjust. destructive species. stolen forests
flat-ironed. climate non-conducive due to
all of our self-serving thoughtlessness.
we rape. pillage. rip. and bleed
our heads in silken sands.
they weep. we bluster — watch their corpses fall.
they cry. we count our profit — finally to fall
our-selves.
tears of copious regret
drowning.

Sally A Mortemore 2024