A Tree
Deep beneath the land, Where my roots have twisted and turned. They tell of my past and present, Of all the times of being burned.
I stand in a field with others, Each with a unique story. Their branches have soared over mine, Basking in their glory.
My leaves and branches slowly wilt, Hurt by the unseen sun. But nevertheless I persevere, Not to be undone.
The unforgiving whispers of winter whisk by, Shriveling my leaves once again. But then came the blades of steel, Carried in the arms of women and men.
They sought my wood, To keep themselves warm during this winter. The glimmering metal came down on my bark, Each strike, causing me to splinter.
They left with many of my branches, The wounds on my sides feeling bare. But it was for the people, No matter if it was fair.
Through it all, And what may lie in store, I have and will always say, I will grow once more.