Greetings, folks. NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) is just around the corner. I’ve decided to join in this year. So, as a sort of anticipatory gesture, I’ve decided to forego the writing prompt today in favor of simply sharing a recently-written poem with you.
If only the trees could speak,
I’d listen to their memories,
Hear the gravel in their voices
As they spoke of younger, better days,
When little children had climbed onto slender branches
Dreaming of an escape from their small town.
I’d listen as they wove tales of love stories,
Of initials carved in the middle of Cupid hearts
Believing that as long as this declaration remained,
They’d never walk away from that mad, passionate adventure.
I’d listen as the trees told of boys marching off to war,
Of the men coming back, sweeping their loves into a tight embrace,
And of the women who never embraced their men again.
I’d listen to the silence of the trees
As they mourned the past and feared the future,
As they worried over the realization
That no one had fallen in love under their branches
In a very long time,
As they mused over the violence and the hatred
Of those who saw differences where none existed,
As they mused over the disconnect between friends and neighbors
As the trees realized that hate and fear throve
Where love had lost its way.
If the trees could speak, I’d listen to them
And wonder where we went wrong.