Parable of the Trees

By: Glenda Walsh Crouse
It’s my home, the forest.
Cool and green.
Life giving; it’s all I need.
Thank you, thank you beautiful trees.
Knocking at my door is a man.
Trees are an opportunity, he says.
So he fells them all; none are left.
I gave them away for opportunity.
The trees are gone; I cannot build.
The air is thick; I cannot breathe.
The sun is hot; I cannot hide.
The soil has moved; I cannot grow.
The fish are dead; I cannot eat.
The water is dirty; I cannot drink.
My soul is empty; I cannot sleep.
I lost my home. I have no trees.
I gave them away for opportunity.
The man returns some time later with my opportunity.
He calls it paper.
I am starving and I need to eat.
But all that can be found from my neighbors,
is more paper.
I cannot build a home with this paper.
I cannot quench my thirst with this paper.
I cannot eat this paper.
Paper has no value to me; the value lies within the tree.
I lost my home. I have no trees.
I gave them away for security.

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