We Do Green Tree Planting

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Becca

a tree sapling is held forward and in focus by a person in the background wearing a mask

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The Day the Sky Fell

On the day the sky fell
And life turned to rubble
I looked around and cried.
My soul whimpered
"It hurts."
My heart whispered
"I know."
"What do I do?" my soul asked.
"Sit", said my heart.
"Sit, and I shall sit here with you."
"But it's broken," my brain wailed.
"We need to fix it."
"We will," assured my heart.
"When?" accused my brain.
"When we can see through the pain," my heart replied.
"We cannot fix what we do not understand.
So for today,
come.
Sit with us.
Feel.
The pain will help teach us what we need to know."
My brain sat.
And after a few moments,
whimpered
"It hurts."
Reaching out its hand,
my soul whispered back
"I know."
Holding them both,
my heart pointed out
"It should."
On the day the sky fell
And life turned to rubble
I looked around and cried.

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In Between the Explosions

I’m tired.
I am so, so tired, looking around at the world.
The hopeful voice in me says “THIS is the world”, looking at
a child laughing
a tree dancing
a whale breaching
The somber voice in me says “no, THIS is the world”, pointing out
a labor camp
a forest fire
an oil spill
And I scream and curse, cry and sob, rant and rail
as the optimist and the pessimist within me do battle
Until the timeless voice in me, made not of joy or pain, but simply the wisdom of the ages, speaks up:
“It is ALL the world
This beautiful ugliness
This glorious tragedy
This fragmented unity”
Life started with a speck of dust on fire
It has been a series of messy outbursts ever since
What a privilege, to make love in between the explosions

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I do not come in peace

I do not come in peace
I come in righteous anger
the fury of ages past
pounding in my blood
I do not come in peace
I come in weary sorrow
the anguish of endless sobs
lumping in my throat
I do not come in peace
I come in abject horror
the echo of tortured screams
ringing in my ears
I do not come in peace
but peace is where I want to go
and so
I come in steadfast resolve
the demand of equal rights
sounding in my steps
I come in open protest
the tension of deferred dreams
thumping in my chest
I come in hopeful yearning
the promise of future days
singing in my soul
I do not come in peace
but peace is what I mean to build

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Dissent

On the day hope died,
she whispered a benediction:
"They are writing not for today,
but for tomorrow."

And so, even as
the planet burned
the people wept
the darkness grew
and hope was lost

One seed was left unburned
One tear was left unshed
One light was left undimmed

And one seed, some water, and a bit of light
was all hope needed
to be reborn

Brought into the world anew
by all those
brave enough
to dissent

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Do you know the way to the revolution?

Excuse me, I’m looking for the revolution.
Do you know the way?
I trained all my life, eager to
vanquish foes
defeat evil
fight injustice.
When I was fifteen,
a cousin invited me to a poetry slam
sharing the story of their pain.
“No,
I can’t go to that.
I'm training for the revolution.
Do you know the way?”
When I was twenty,
a friend invited me to a concert
singing the song of their hope.
“No,
I can’t go to that.
I'm training for the revolution.
Do you know the way?”
When I was thirty,
a colleague invited me to a play
telling the tale of their history.
“No,
I can’t go to that.
I'm training for the revolution.
Do you know the way?”
“Do you know the way to the revolution?”
I asked this
of everyone I met.
Then one night, a man
overheard my question
Called over to me
“Yes!
I know the way to the revolution.
Follow me.”
Excited,
I went with the man
Finally,
I would join the revolution
He led me down a road
toward noisy clamour
and loud footfall
My heart raced
A door opened.
I rushed my way in
Sword drawn,
ready to take on all comers.
Came to an abrupt halt. Confused.
The clamour was joyful music
and the footfall was
not made by soldiers at war.
I looked around
suddenly realising
I spent my life
training to fight
when what was asked of me
was to dance.
The poetry slam.
The concert.
The play.
Time and time again,
I had been invited to the revolution.
Ignored it.
Too caught up
in my own fantasy
of what the revolution
should look like.
I stood frozen
terrified
ashamed
No idea what to do next.
A woman walked up to me
smiled
held out her hand
“Want to dance?”
“I...
I don’t know the steps.”
“That’s okay.
I do.
Follow me.”

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The End of the Universe

The books
we read as teens
didn't make us think
the end of the universe
would start with a whisper.
We sat
waiting for the earthquake,
the alien invasion,
the nuclear bomb.
But life is not like the movies
And this is always how it has begun.
With a whisper here
a lie there
The slow creep-in
of hatred and control
becoming so pervasive
it targets us too.
And so history sits
Cassandra in the corner
pleading over and over
This is always how it has begun,
Warning signs everywhere.
You wanted your epic trilogy
But those movies
never start
at the beginning of the story.
The end of the universe
starts with a whisper.
Does the revolution?

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Fairy Tale

This story doesn’t have a happy ending

I want to spin you an epic tale
of a princess rescuing a dragon

I want to sing you a romantic ballad
of a heroine liberating her people
　
But I can’t
because I’m a character
stuck in the middle of the story

And I’m not even sure
whether I’m the princess or the dragon
　
Some days, I fear
I might be the evil queen
or the misled knight
the princess has to defeat

If I am,
I hope I lose
so the happy ending can come

Better yet,
perhaps the princess is so good
the dragon so lovingly fierce
and the evil queen still human enough
that she can be redeemed
and get a happy ending too
　
I want to tell you the glorious saga
of a nation repenting from wickedness

But I can’t

not yet

It is up to you to decide
whether this story ends
abruptly, unfinished

or launches your quest
　
　
This story doesn’t have a happy ending...
not yet

Please give it one

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