There is a tree that stands in the valley
And its branches sway in a gentle breeze
It takes in the warmth of the sun light
Its silent sighs, if audible would please.
Her feet caress the moist, dark soil
Her toes spread wide and deep
She stretches to the awakens of spring time
After a long recuperative sleep.
She dresses her self in fine green leaves
And birds have adorned her with their nests
Leaves have decayed around her base
To reveal her own saplings doing their best.
In this ritual she has always participated
And she now does it alone
She is the last tree in that valley
The rest were taken from this home.
She stands beside trickling water
And weeps on this fine spring day
And laments over the memory of her sisters
Who were brutally taken away.
Across the stream, along the bank
She hears a soft and silent cry
The words of the her sisters saplings call
“We are your sisters children, we live and will not die”.
She raises her limbs in the soft spring breeze
As if to give praise to the sun
And whispers words to her family
“Life continues and life has begun”.
There is a tree that stands in the valley
And her branches sway in a gentle breeze
She watches over the growing saplings
Their silent sighs, are audible and please.
