26
Paper
Bridget Bonadona
Extending from a faded, peeling-gray trunk,
Angelic virescent leaves are fluttering in the wind,
Conducting nature’s symphony,
When a relentless, gruesome, roar approaches.
The roar gets louder and becomes a piercing scream,
A human-crafted spinning blade slices into the left side of the Willow,
The incision burns like a massive paper cut.
He can only hear the screaming chainsaw but
Each ring in her is wailing louder than the saw
As her circular trunk slowly divides,
The whole forest can hear her health decline.
The saw rips deeper and deeper into her core,
She is losing her balance and panicking, rustling her leaves
She cries one last goodbye and drops her last seeds,
Then bashes the ground with a thump of lifelessness.
Only a silent stump is left.
Each tree in the forest gets muted and raped,
The life living in their leaves barely escapes,
Only a silent stump is left.