six trees gathered, a single stand,
looking for a gathering, standing of four more,
a prayer circle to make, branch to branch
holding onto each other, to have their bark better
heard, the question on the table, today’s agenda:
why must trees die?
overheard their human querying same, the proud trees
too, puzzled, sending their inquiry to the heavens that
feed them never failing, water to quench a rooted deep
thirst, their role, job description well understood, purposed
to shade the world, give off fruit, so tasked, so asked:
why must trees die?
Caught the busy Lord unawares, dealing with seasonal pandemics,
endemic hatred from the frailings of human weakness, who honor
pretense by their mouth moving, but don’t believe their enunciation,
oh! tiresome battlefront, millions of casualties inflicted on each other,
Lord could not countenance another self-interested questioning of his earthly architecture
why must trees die?
on a beautiful paradisal day, cumulus whites decorating a blue coloratura that never be quite replicated, quieting, five-sense waters at ease, minimal moving, lunching noon hour,the birds, insects, rabbits all retired to cooling reservoirs, munch, gnaw, pollinate, yet the trees misjudge the sun dial iris quietude in the manger, the grove, as the Lord’s good graceful forgiving demeanor, therefore shocking, disbelieving the unforgiving ruthlessness of a deity of love, so the
cracking of a single bolt of punishing, purposed lighting, that knocked all the trees down, single blow, roots embruing, ember glowed, a “sounding” the world hears unoften, unremitting, not understanding its other-worldliness, so rare appearing when an actualized answer is returned, declarative, tangible, glorious words:
because I am who I am, The Eternal, alone, who keeps the imperfect balance of all my creations, without oversight, asking only from them
acceptance of things beyond earthly comprehension...
