Greenpeace

The tree wants to lie down
But the soil remains hard
For centuries the humid wind has teased
The leaves, one by one,
Have succumbed in disgrace, distress
Long has been the wait for rain.

The roots have believed, they have no thirst
The stem loses shame, loses its bark
Branches break away angrily in vain
Flowers, last, have migrated long ago
The life inside burns in the sepulcher of hopes
The moist soil looms over the horizon of smoke.

So save the tree, for it still is alive.
Be human, or to life, be divine
Whisper to the wound, don't be shy
With each drop of loss, a clot must arrive.

So let the tree live, the shade might be fine
Touch, feel and connect the blurred lines.