Imagine you were a tree,
a big, lush tree,
living so long you started to remember
being a sprout as one gleeful, distant memory.
So venerable, you had witnessed countless
little ones play under your shade
and the frail ones return to you
and the millions you let breathe.

Imagine you were this tree,
And no one heard your pain
as your branches wilted,
your roots engulfed,
and your leaves plucked by fire,
born out of the greedy nature of mankind.

Here we lose the breaths not yet breathed,
As this is not the death Earth intended.

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An ode to fires in the Amazon and Indonesian rainforests.

*First published on October 4, 2019. This is a revised version as I was never satisfied with this poem, especially it’s ending, and decided to refine it to commemorate Earth Day. Not sure this is good enough, but I will always revisit and revise my old poems anyway.