faces in the felled tree

faces in the felled tree

what was once a mighty oak,
is now no more,
than a mighty sadness,
slashed and bleeding
on the woodland floor.

some weeks ago,
a man in overalls
sprayed a telltale pink dot onto the bark.
the first step toward history,
this manmade plague mark.

they argue on the grounds of safety,
claiming the tree is in danger
of falling onto someone…
but the tree belongs to the wood.
and neither belongs to us.

brought down,
through insecurity, testosterone
and a chainsaw,
this is yet another bullying,
in a relentless battle of man over nature.

the trunk is blistered with knotty faces.
the spirit of terrified woodland,
unable to grow free,
before the bite of blade;
before man’s savage decree.