Vacivus Grove

Alone I dolefully stand

in a field of desecrated land.

My kin were wrongfully stole away,

stripped of their bark and set on truck beds to lay,

We are but fodder to the luxuries of man,

to burn, be cut, reformed from how we began.

Unfair is our fate. How could this transpire?

To be molded, split, sanded, and held by wire?

How excruciating this would be for mankind,

to be expected to behave as if your hands are in a bind.

Regardless of that, the last tree cutter came close;

my fate was already set, no matter whom I oppose.

Because alone, I dolefully stand,

in a field of desecrated land.

My kin had been robbed of their pride.

Stripped of their bark, they all died.