Tall Trees.
Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash.
I live where tall trees have ferocious thoughts.
They rustle with greed and cloud you in their darkness.
I fear because their acts are unpredictable, like a fortnight ago when they ate John in my presence and I stood confused.
Should I have jumped in for rescue? Would they have swallowed me?
My guardian speaks of the sunshine, how it should render the trees docile.
“The sun watches, so the tall trees cannot harm us.”
Today, the tall trees are beating the sun. Their nature is bare in the people’s sight.
Was it because I left John to their antics? Was it because we ignored the other victims?
The sands tell that the tall trees grew power from our silence.
They stretched forth their branches into the quiet of our tongue.
Whether you walk the forest or sit in comfort, the trees will seize you for their feasting because no one challenges.
Few take charge of fate before the tall trees come, and tender their ends by their hands.
No more friends to play with, no more John to call brother.
We want to cut the tall trees down, but we fear, we may be late.
