Tuesday, March 1, 2016

‘The Murder of a Tree’

When the heart of a man grows cold,
Then is heard a woeful sound:
The snarling and growling
Of the sawing machine
And the breaking and felling
Of a tree, sister pine
Or brother oak, and
The tearing and flaying
Of crown and trunk,
Of fingers and arms,
With hot metal teeth.
The sky is empty,
The work of many days fordone,
And the earth’s fairness is lessened.

* * * * *

On the other hand, if no tree were ever felled, then there would not be any way for man to create things like holy icons as offerings to God:

May the All-Holy Trinity grant us wisdom to use our authority as priests of His creation as we ought.

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