Life has past the soil between my grasping roots. I need to be heard, I need to reach out with these old twigs and branches. I am who I am, I am alive, I have a story that needs to be told.
As a seed, a young boy in cow hide robes placed me underneath this very soil. Everyday he returned, and everyday he took care to all of my needs. He watered down the soil with spring water and watched me grow. I remember the first time I saw the yellow wheel in the blue ocean above. It was so beautiful tears rolled down my leaves.
“Why do you cry seedling?” the boy asked.
“I cry for the beauty of this world, I cry for the purity of this world,” I replied.
“Soon you will have life among your many branches, be patient,” the boy told me as he gave me some more water. “I will return soon.”
I waited. Staring at the sun, reaching for its wonder. As the years passed on, I grew, as did the boy. Everyday he continued his kindness.
One day,when I was just a young tree, and he a man, he did not return. By this time I was able to peer over the hill and view his village. The village was sparkling with heat and screams. The peaceful people lay on the ground, not speaking, not laughing. The boy lay in shambles with a spilled bucket of water still locked in his hand. I was bleeding, I was crying. Pain ran through my bark and into my soul. I had lost my father, and my friend.
A single arrow pierced into my adolescent trunk. I screamed in pain, but I could not be heard. A roar of crowing and hoof beats echoed behind me. My fallen leaves danced around me and whispered to me these undying words.
“My name is Yoli, I will forever water your roots.” It was the boy, I never forget such kind words. Everyday since then water bubbled to my roots at the same times, as if Yoli were still a living carcass.
Many years after Yoli’s village was pillaged, a new village appeared, but it was not the same. It was wooden and perminate. They hurt my friends to ground this village. Many of the old trees that conversed with me, gone. Turned into walls, ceilings and doors. Some were dressed in oddly colored uniforms with muskets armored to their backs. Others in long denim shirts and pants held up with strips of fabric over their shoulders. Women in dresses of many colors and styles. All the men and women danced in celebration. On the hill adjacent to me a colorful piece of cloth danced in the wind. The cloth was decorated with red and white stripes interrupted with a blue blob covered in white stars, like the midnight sky.
I could not help but notice a young boy with a shiny, silver bowl full of golden nuggets. The bowl had holes in it, water flowed through the many exits lined for it. My roots longed for the spring water again. I wanted it so much I shook the leaves that hung on my branches. I regret that when I did this I had knocked a small bird out of its nest, killing it in an instant. The lifeless corpse of that little blue bird, reminded me too much of Yoli. I wept so much it rained and it rained for seven months. Much of the soil covering my large, sturdy roots eroded exposing me. I couldn’t help but scream, this time I could be heard. The villagers below trembled. I believe they started to call it thunder.
A small girl ran up to me during the storm holding hands with a boy sheltering her with a jacket. They threw themselves amongst my trunk laughing and wringing out their soaked clothing. The boy pulled out a sharp, steel stick and he used it to carve into my weeping soul. The pain was unbearable, why could anyone hurt other living things? He was killing me, pulling off sections of by bark, exposing my core. How could he not be done there! The boy then stabbed my carving names into my skin in an odd curving shape. When he was done the girl kissed him as if he did something good. I looked at the damage and saw some sort of mathematic equation! It read “Tina+ Roger = Forever” To this day I am still tying to figure it out.
“Yoli!” I screamed. “Why has this world gone mad!” The rain stopped, as did the thunder.
“The world is, and has been a savage place,” Yoli explained blowing the clouds away from the bright circle in the night sky.
The madness of the world continued day by day. Men rolled through the town carting gold, while others steal and rob them. I witnessed this anarchy, this interspecies betrayal for many decades, till the last nugget was forged into the last engagement ring and the last dollar. The Town grew into extreme poverty, such gloomy despair. The birds no longer sang sweet lullabies, Yoli stayed silent, as if time itself canceled. As these barbaric idiocies continued the city grew, more and more trees murdered helplessly being turned into “beautiful things.”Some were chopped further and sold in the markets! They called it “firewood.”
Why would one species purposely start fires! Fires kill living entities every summer maliciously, with out regret without thought. The human race is a raging fire destroying homes and nature! They don’t appreciate the world, they are blind. Blind to see the world in the eyes of others. Humans hurt themselves, they hurt others. I don’t understand how such a monstrous species could have ever sprouted.
Uncounted generations pass, the town grew and soon I was surrounded with buildings and youth. The sign at the bottom of my forever mountain read “UNION MINE HIGH SCHOOL,” an odd name for a town.
Games of violence of battering play on green terrain with an ovular ball being kicked through bent posts. A magical board counted the number of “downs” each team made.
Yoli is the wind, I cannot see him, but I feel him. He still waters my soil, still taking care to my needs. No matter how evil the world, I can always count on Yoli, the tree boy, the one with heart. The one with conscious.
Life has past the soil between my grasping roots. I need to be heard, I need to reach out with these old twigs and branches. I am who I am, I am alive, I have a story that needs to be told.
As a seed, a young boy in cow hide robes placed me underneath this very soil. Everyday he returned, and everyday he took care to all of my needs. He watered down the soil with spring water and watched me grow. I remember the first time I saw the yellow wheel in the blue ocean above. It was so beautiful tears rolled down my leaves.
“Why do you cry seedling?” the boy asked.
“I cry for the beauty of this world, I cry for the purity of this world,” I replied.
“Soon you will have life among your many branches, be patient,” the boy told me as he gave me some more water. “I will return soon.”
I waited. Staring at the sun, reaching for its wonder. As the years passed on, I grew, as did the boy. Everyday he continued his kindness.
One day,when I was just a young tree, and he a man, he did not return. By this time I was able to peer over the hill and view his village. The village was sparkling with heat and screams. The peaceful people lay on the ground, not speaking, not laughing. The boy lay in shambles with a spilled bucket of water still locked in his hand. I was bleeding, I was crying. Pain ran through my bark and into my soul. I had lost my father, and my friend.
A single arrow pierced into my adolescent trunk. I screamed in pain, but I could not be heard. A roar of crowing and hoof beats echoed behind me. My fallen leaves danced around me and whispered to me these undying words.
“My name is Yoli, I will forever water your roots.” It was the boy, I never forget such kind words. Everyday since then water bubbled to my roots at the same times, as if Yoli were still a living carcass.
Many years after Yoli’s village was pillaged, a new village appeared, but it was not the same. It was wooden and perminate. They hurt my friends to ground this village. Many of the old trees that conversed with me, gone. Turned into walls, ceilings and doors. Some were dressed in oddly colored uniforms with muskets armored to their backs. Others in long denim shirts and pants held up with strips of fabric over their shoulders. Women in dresses of many colors and styles. All the men and women danced in celebration. On the hill adjacent to me a colorful piece of cloth danced in the wind. The cloth was decorated with red and white stripes interrupted with a blue blob covered in white stars, like the midnight sky.
I could not help but notice a young boy with a shiny, silver bowl full of golden nuggets. The bowl had holes in it, water flowed through the many exits lined for it. My roots longed for the spring water again. I wanted it so much I shook the leaves that hung on my branches. I regret that when I did this I had knocked a small bird out of its nest, killing it in an instant. The lifeless corpse of that little blue bird, reminded me too much of Yoli. I wept so much it rained and it rained for seven months. Much of the soil covering my large, sturdy roots eroded exposing me. I couldn’t help but scream, this time I could be heard. The villagers below trembled. I believe they started to call it thunder.
A small girl ran up to me during the storm holding hands with a boy sheltering her with a jacket. They threw themselves amongst my trunk laughing and wringing out their soaked clothing. The boy pulled out a sharp, steel stick and he used it to carve into my weeping soul. The pain was unbearable, why could anyone hurt other living things? He was killing me, pulling off sections of by bark, exposing my core. How could he not be done there! The boy then stabbed my carving names into my skin in an odd curving shape. When he was done the girl kissed him as if he did something good. I looked at the damage and saw some sort of mathematic equation! It read “Tina+ Roger = Forever” To this day I am still tying to figure it out.
“Yoli!” I screamed. “Why has this world gone mad!” The rain stopped, as did the thunder.
“The world is, and has been a savage place,” Yoli explained blowing the clouds away from the bright circle in the night sky.
The madness of the world continued day by day. Men rolled through the town carting gold, while others steal and rob them. I witnessed this anarchy, this interspecies betrayal for many decades, till the last nugget was forged into the last engagement ring and the last dollar. The Town grew into extreme poverty, such gloomy despair. The birds no longer sang sweet lullabies, Yoli stayed silent, as if time itself canceled. As these barbaric idiocies continued the city grew, more and more trees murdered helplessly being turned into “beautiful things.”Some were chopped further and sold in the markets! They called it “firewood.”
Why would one species purposely start fires! Fires kill living entities every summer maliciously, with out regret without thought. The human race is a raging fire destroying homes and nature! They don’t appreciate the world, they are blind. Blind to see the world in the eyes of others. Humans hurt themselves, they hurt others. I don’t understand how such a monstrous species could have ever sprouted.
Uncounted generations pass, the town grew and soon I was surrounded with buildings and youth. The sign at the bottom of my forever mountain read “UNION MINE HIGH SCHOOL,” an odd name for a town.
Games of violence of battering play on green terrain with an ovular ball being kicked through bent posts. A magical board counted the number of “downs” each team made.
Yoli is the wind, I cannot see him, but I feel him. He still waters my soil, still taking care to my needs. No matter how evil the world, I can always count on Yoli, the tree boy, the one with heart. The one with conscious.