The Last Tree
They file past, upturned faces awestruck with wonder.
Not one of them has ever seen my kind before,
nor will they likely do so again, for I am the last.
It has been more than a generation since my kind went under.
There will be no saplings, no seeds, not now, not anymore.
The time of my kind, my species, is forever past.
Our murderers cannot yet admit they made a blunder;
poisoning the air, destroying every single spore,
eliminating the greenery of Earth's forests vast.
Only now when faced with the world's last living tree,
encased in a museum diorama behind leaded glass,
do they encompass what their collective hubris has done.
Why must it cost such an ungodly price to see
the death of all their futures in the follies they surpass,
will they know of losses more than they believe to have won?
We cleaned their air, Mother Nature's own promise and guarantee,
from the mighty oaks and elms to the densest prairie grass
that sweetened every breath and succored them from the sun.
Now machines do the work to filter their every lung's taste
and shield them from Sol's bitter, biting, burning rays,
their adaptation their only defense against their folly's fault.
While I stand here to the last, awaiting eventual rot & waste
under school children's astonished, amazed and wary gaze,
every bitter tear waters my bed of soil with killing salt.
Until with germination has my imposed loneliness been replaced
and with new hope might seedlings be interred to raise
aill vegetation rebound from the meatlings unwitting assault.
So pass me by with a look, attend well the words of your guide
who tells you of how my kind once kept your kind alive
and of how your arrogance cost us everything we ever knew.
Think well on what you will do when I, the last tree has died.
How will your children or theirs ever hope to survive,
when only ashes coat the world where once greenery grew?
Think long and hard on how we all may safely abide
how photosynthesis is required for both of our species to thrive,
so you will never have to moan, “If only we knew?”
-----
-----
©2014 Christopher Reilley
I would love to know what you thought about this piece.
Please consider leaving a comment.
This is very hard hitting. I really hope it doesn't come to this. I like your rhyme scheme - is it a named form, or did you create it yourself? It flows very nicely.
ReplyDelete"Only now when faced with the world's last living tree,
ReplyDeleteencased in a museum diorama behind leaded glass,
do they encompass what their collective hubris has done."
You have successfully expressed the terrible cost of treating trees as a commodity. Ancient people knew trees are our lungs and cooling agents. No clue how "modern man" has forgotten this....even as each year is hotter than the last.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine humans trying to do the job of trees using machinery - but I think if the trees die, we die too.
ReplyDeleteWhat a terrifying thought!
ReplyDeleteI would hope when the end comes that it is the opposite--one last human being sheltered by trees.
ReplyDeleteGosh - how terrible to think of a world without trees. We must protect this planet from the rapacious greed of some humans.
ReplyDeleteThe empathy you extend to this last lone tree reaches out to all the species of life ending its evolutionary walk in the present moment. Without that living canopy, we have only human mastery for shade, and then what are we? A withering. umbrella.
ReplyDeleteThe voice of the last tree is filled with wisdom. Its an intense reminder that we need to protect them from extinction. They are a living source of energy that we need to survive. Well written. Sigh
ReplyDelete