Sam Betts
You stretch high above
The forest floor. And
Shade those beneath.
You don’t have bark like rock
but a skin that’s pale and smooth.
People passing by must think
It’s perfect for a knife.
Humanity carves into you:
Dildos, hearts, and names.
Meaningless immortality projects.
A love so fragile it must be
Broadcasted to every passerby.
Your bark is branded with insecurities.
I want to say I’m sorry beech trees,
That your beauty has been
Claimed by harsh proclamations.
I’m sorry we thought your life
Was ours to ruin.
I’m sorry you’ve been maimed
At every opportunity.
This won’t ease the pain of the knife,
But beech trees remember:
You are older than humanity,
You are stronger than humanity,
And you will reach further than humanity.
So next time you feel the pain,
I regret to say you’ll just have
To suffer knowing you will outgrow it.
You will reclaim your beauty
If you keep reaching upward
You may bring scares with you,
But they won’t define you.
And with this resolution,
The knife may start to hurt a little less.
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