The Orphanage of Trees
Heritage Nature.
We like the way it looks.
We’re saddened by death and destruction,
With a cheery relief that it was them, not us
Or our house or car.
The quiet acceptance
Of those who cannot speak
Our language.
Those who cannot move forward to grasp the care they need.
It isn’t even in their nature.
They have everything they need, when left in peace
But what is peace?
Peace isn’t ignoring.
Peace isn’t neglect.
Peace isn’t taking away everything bar the bear essentials
“Squeezing ‘till the pip squeaks”
Take, take, squeeze, squeeze
Push, right up to the limits, right up to the limits of existence
Telling them “we love you”
Knowing “We gave you everything money could buy”
As we watch them wither and die.
Who saves us, then?
Let’s watch and see.
“If he is so Holy and Important, let his God prove it and rescue him.”
We set ourselves up as witness,
Zoo enclosures, lab conditions love zone.
“She’s leaving home after living alone for so many years.”
Deprived of touch, the children wither and die
Deprived of connection, the community withers and dies
Deprived of space and inclusion, the trees, the insects, the plants, the animals, the fish and the birds
Wither and die.
While we watch.
It is a kind of self-sacrifice, except that there is no choice.
There is a trust, that goes to its death from its own life-imperative.
We don’t really want it, and it knows.
We don’t delight in it, we don’t put it first.
Jesus says, “Put me first” “Whoever loves his father or his mother more than Me…”
The deprivation we inflict comes back to haunt us:
An orphanage with destitute, dying children (though dressed, fed and given a bed)
A thin line of trees, vanguard and exposed, though allowed to remain
Workers in our system, honed to perfection… as we see it.
Pared down to the bare minimum of resources
And trouble.
How much of it can we tolerate whilst still having space for our roads, patios, houses?
Over in that corner, where it doesn’t cause any mess.
Children should be seen and not heard.
Roots and branches that demand and desire and take space,
We clop and restrict
Depending on how we feel.
We chose a quiet life, what looks like safety.
Clean. Easier.
When we tear down the trees and allow the wind to tear down the rest,
Build in desolate places,
The winds howling through,
The waters flooding through,
The sun blazing through,
Bleak, bright, clinical, glaringly inhospitable
To anyone who has eyes to see and ears to listen,
The curtain is torn.
It hits us too late: this wasn’t what we wanted.
Existence doesn’t happen without each other
We are in this together.
We got the house, the car, the territory
The clothes the food the avoidance of trouble.
The self-service check out
The self-service check in
“Wrapped like candy in a blue, blue neon glow.”
To the end result it matters not
Whether we went there with our eyes open or closed
What matters is that we went.
And we did go.
To a place where all life was, eventually, squeezed out
While we watch in delayed horror.
“Something inside that was always denied for so many years.”