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Monday, October 16, 2017

Ent war



This poem was inspired by the sight of this great fallen tree.
Silently fallen, the great oak tree,
Old age witness of secrets past,
Lying rootless in the grass.

Branches, the old panoply,
Caught in the wind like tangled hair,
Dragged its giant body down.

No rustling of leaves,
Nor bending in the breeze.
Centurion of time, a guard no more.

O shepherds of the trees
Where art thou, gentle guides,
To lead the feeble herd?

The enemy wields the air
Against the dawn of time,
Scheming onslaughts, mercy-free.
The trees in our local park at this time of year

As ents of old went to their doom,
Wake up and fight for all things green!
Let black sights move thee to obey
To sound the horn, “arise, assail!”

For truth foretold and endless day,
Dawn breaking through the darkest night.
For verdant pastures, trickling streams,
From death's dark vale to jubilee!

For worth eternal, endless glee,
Purest laughter after rain,
Lips proclaiming through the pain
The words that set all free.

Deep roots stretching toward true life,
Strong in the tossing winds of change.
Life sap flowing through the veins,
A German artist secretly transforms tree stumps into "mini-ents"
Growing upward to the light.

For such there is no holding back,
No slinking silence in the ranks.
This war condones no cowardice,
The orbs of which are limitless.

March on, ye shepherds of the trees!
Haste your duty to enfold
Saplings yearning to be free,
Courage waning, lean on thee.