The Forest Weeps
See me,
in my beautiful green,
with arms swaying in the wind.
See me,
with soft, lovely petals, colored by the
rainbows blend.
With mosses soft, and flowers so sweet,
with green grasses that tickle
Your feet.
I live, I breathe, and I feed all those in need.
Whose careless act, indeed,
lights the match
Which caused the deed?
See me,
I am black. My arms begin to crack.
See my petals turn to dust,
by the hands of those, who cared,
not so much.
See my grasses disappear,
my mosses black, everywhere,
by the hands of those,
who did not care.
I am Dead,
I am Dead.
Please, bring me back,
to life again.
Written by:
turtle 1999 ©
Beaver Tree Originals
Foot note: This is the one of the very first Native American poem/story I wrote that inspired the beginning of my writings and it speaks thus from the heart of my Indian heritage. Further more, turtle, is my Indian name given to me by my grandmother.
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