Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Requiem

.
.
A log of discarded wood.
That was all it ever was.
Lying in a lush green meadow,
flowers blooming all around it.

The soft breeze of spring would
brush past it and tickle it playfully.
Its days would go dreaming of the time
it was a majestic tree in this very place.

He would bear juicy fruits for the weary and the hungry.
Spread out its branches sprinkled with leaves
and sway them around in the playful breeze
offering relief to the men and animals from the hot summer sun.

It was a glorious time of life.
Friends and family would lay under its shade,
children would climb its highest of branches and
pluck the most unreachable fruits
as it would bear them in its arms like its own.

Squirrels would store their nuts in its body
and it would keep them safe like little secrets.
Lying in the sun like an ancient war hero,
eyes with a fleeting glint of the grand history
they endured but the body wrinkled and withered by the sun and the rain.

Years of storms had left it weak but
they had been unable to take its pride away.
All its life, everyone drew nourishment, relief, strength
and love from it till they skinned it to its bone,
took its heart out and hacked its limbs away
for their selfish motives.

They uprooted it from the very place
where it was born and raised with love and care,
where it spread itself and blossomed the meadow
and adorned it and where it will now be buried
and consumed till every bit of its body has given strength to a new life.
.
.

2 comments:

  1. Nice one. I feel that the log should understand that sometimes the dead are way more organized than the living!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hmm..
      Thats a very interesting and fresh perspective Madhura..
      I am glad, my posts instill that sense in my readers :-)

      Delete

...share ur most devious thoughts...