I imagine they made it of living wood;
the tree itself shared your fate,
cut down in service of hateful violence,
its beauty overlooked, its sacrifice,
turning our exhaust into air, sweet bitterness
of fruit and pollen, its praise of heaven,
limbs raised high, razed to the ground
with you. They did not see
or understand that its roots
already harrowed earth
so that from its demise
a thousand creatures might arise,
give thanks to their Creator
for the tree of life.
