The trees are my solemn watchmen
Poplar. Pine. Cedar. Fir. Maple. Oak
Ever vigilant never sleeping
They watch what is and has been
Soft creaking and groaning
Leaves whispering in the wind
These are the words they speak
I believe it's a language so ancient we have forgotten
The crackling of a madrones bark
The random plop plop of a pine cone
These are the foreign tongues of the forest
No one is as loyal as a tree could be
So stoic in their resolve to stand against fire and storm
Can you imagine what a tree sees
The symbiotic relationship between all creatures below them
Then there is man who loves and destroys without giving anything
They watch us cut and burn the forests that raised and sheltered them
They watch as we kill all animals some for food more for sport
They grow deaf from the noise pollutions of our highways
And become jaded at the site of us killing each other for nothing other than fear
But still the tree stands
Unbiased, unpoised, still beautiful.
JE LEEST
Ink & Tears
PoëzieThis is a collection of poems that I have written about my struggles with depression, anxiety, love, nature, and the darker aspect of the world that seems to always hammer on my heart. I hope this reaches some of you.
