A gash in the tree line

High up the mountain,

Acres of stumps where

Trees once stood.

A haunting image,

Scars ripped across the landscape

Trees torn from their home

Chopped and stacked

To be shipped far and wide.

But what is left is a

Weeping mother earth,

With an ugly scar scratched

Across her beautiful face,

Marred by human interaction.

Tears mixed with the blood

Of the earth

Ooze down the mountain

A cry for help

In a language understood

Only in stillness

And communion.


While I was in Oregon I saw areas of the forest where there had obviously been clearcutting. It is something I won’t forget, it just absolutely struck me and inspired this poem. It’s such a difficult thing, for me at least, because it is so very sad to see acres where trees have just been cut. It makes me want to hug the earth and heal it.


What do trees mean to you?


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