Prayer of the Trees*
Arise, O God, that our sorrows may sleep,
Our brittle bodies know no fortitude.
The owls are wary and the ravens spare
Whose nestlings once were our beatitude.
Our souls are dark with fears, our sinews threads.
Few robins grace us with their majesty.
Where sunbeams leapt upon our leafy bands
Dour night enshrouds your gentle tapestry.
The waters cease to sing, they only mourn,
Whose songs were known to your intrepid dove.
We die upon this earth like you, forlorn,
Our tears exalt the memory of your love.
Lift up our seedlings, God, that they may breathe,
Let spirit guide their glory into flight!
We watch our brothers fall without a cry,
Though earth and sky sow your salvific light.
*We are trees of the northeastern United States whose tribes are dying everywhere.
© 2008 by Sam Gold