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The Funeral Of A Tree

‘A life well lived,

Humble, generous, hospitable to all’

A eulogy with anecdotes, happy memories,

Attempts at hope and perhaps a future.


Yet, we mourn over its death,

Its life cut in half,

Unjustly at that

It wasn’t fair the way we lost it

Yet life moves on all around it

No longer are we children longing to swing on its branches

But grown-ups, afraid of its swaying in the wind.

Fearful of our homes being destroyed

And therefore destroying the homes in it


We forget its shade

From stormy rains

We forget the hope it gave

On terribly sad days


Can we call it murder? When a life has been broken and bent?

When it’s been uprooted from its source?


Can we call it stewardship? When we fight for a life,

When we ask for it to be free

To grow, to flourish, to provide

How do we find peace in the chaos?

In the whirring of a machine, A lifeless object wedged between what was and what is.


We forget its vibrant green

And choose a plain white hue

For our walls and our windows

That now look out into more walls and windows.


But, do we bury our hope, strength, courage and compassion?

Or like the tree with its seed,

Use this burial to inspire more life

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