I lived with this tree for thirty years

Prayed in its cathedral

For isn’t prayer the raising of eyes

and arms to the heavens

I drank the bitter tea of its leaves

Meditated in its sun-drenched shadows

Sought it out at dawn and dusk

Gathered its bark

to spark the winter fires

Followed the hawk to its high outstretched limbs

Witnessed its brutal murder

Mourn its absence

And listen

as deep in the mud-sumped,

rain-slurried earth,

its severed roots scream


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