Parable of the Trees

By: Glenda Walsh Crouse

It’s my home, the forest.

Cool and green.

Life giving; it’s all I need.

Thank you, thank you beautiful trees.

Knocking at my door is a man.

Trees are an opportunity, he says.

So he fells them all; none are left.

I gave them away for opportunity.

The trees are gone; I cannot build.

The air is thick; I cannot breathe.

The sun is hot; I cannot hide.

The soil has moved; I cannot grow.

The fish are dead; I cannot eat.

The water is dirty; I cannot drink.

My soul is empty; I cannot sleep.

I lost my home. I have no trees.

I gave them away for opportunity.

The man returns some time later with my opportunity.

He calls it paper.

I am starving and I need to eat.

But all that can be found from my neighbors,

is more paper.

I cannot build a home with this paper.

I cannot quench my thirst with this paper.

I cannot eat this paper.

Paper has no value to me; the value lies within the tree.

I lost my home. I have no trees.

I gave them away for security.