Why must the wind blow,
and rip us from our sitting
which we so humbly
call our home?
I have heard stories of this,
of how peaceful it ends,
but I was quite peaceful
up there on that branch.
I sprouted from that spot,
and grew until now,
just to be ripped from my roots,
and sent on my way.
I know death is coming
I have heard many stories.
The fall from my home
is rather tender and easy,
but to know that within hours,
when the sun shines upon me,
my skin will dry,
and I will change colors, then die.
To my surprise, the landing,
it was not very hard.
I had thought that surely
because of my peaceful decent,
that the landing would be enough
to end the misery
coursing through my veins
due to the knowledge bestowed upon me.
It is not so bad
lying here on the ground.
The smell is different though,
and oh so quiet.
Is this where I begin to feel
the claws of death surround me?
I am waiting
but nothing happens.
Maybe the stories were true,
it is so peaceful.
But nobody told me
that the peace was this dreary.
There is no noise,
only the faint voice of Mother Nature.
of a matter of fact,
my companions are quiet.
Please, at least one of you
are still alive!
Speak, sing, oh my,
please do not let me suffer!!
I feel the ground,
it feels nothing like it looks from above,
it is so sharp and rigid,
no this is not right!
Wait, what is this?
The sun begins to rise.
Now I know my time is short,
but the irony of it all.
While sitting upon that branch
for as long as I did,
I would enjoy every moment
of watching the sun rise.
Now cursed with the knowledge
that what I loved so dearly
would eventually become
the icon of my destruction.
It is still so gorgeous though,
and, oh, the warmth.
Now that there is light,
let me see how far
away from my tree
that I floated last night.
Oh My! The sights
that I must see!
Now I understand
why the ground felt odd.
Many of leaves
possibly related to me,
lie on the ground,
all brown and shriveled.
Oh, how morbid, and I have no control.
I must lie on those of my kind,
except they are already dead,
and I am invading their rest.
It is now almost noon and I have
blue to red to orange.
Oh no, the wind
it picks me up high,
into the same tree
that I previously called home.
Many leaves ask me
about how it is.
should I tell them
of the overwhelming fear?
Should I tell them of the sight
they will see in the morn?
Or, perhaps they should see
and learn for themselves
the facts of life
So, I proceed to tell them
and story of peace,
of beauty and solitude,
and how much they will learn.
I tell them no lies,
I only hide the truth.
I am slipping out
of the tree once again.
The sun is getting hotter,
I will not last much longer.
It now comes together
every answer to the questions
that I asked before,
throughout life and before death.
We must learn for ourselves,
because that is the only way to live.
I cannot even tell now
if I have landed on the ground,
I am so numb,
but I am at peace.
Whenever is my time,
I am ready and waiting,
for I am happy with
the things I have accomplished.
Now I understand life,
and do not fear death.
unpublished work: �copyright 1995 by Troy D. Walker
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