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I am a sapling, standing, still,
Trusting you to teach me how to rise above the hills.
Brother, lead me to the bright sunlight;
Show me how to reach the sky.
I want to spread my green, see-through arms to catch the liquid warmth.
I learn how you convert the world to sugar-energy.
You speak to me.
You live where I can see.
Your words like fresh, soft breeze.
Like clean, vibrant light washing over me.
I look to you, a redwood in my forestry.
With you I reach above.
Tall, growing quietly.
Your kindness, drooping down to reach me.
You guidance, like whispers rustling through me.

I am a sapling, stooping, chilled,
How could you have taught me how to rise above the hills?
Brother, now you’ve fallen in the dark night storm;
I’m abandoned in the blackness, left to die.
The wind tears through me, numbs my shoots, chokes my roots– I drown in dryness, cold,
Coveting your words, now only bitter memories.
You have left me,
Your silence deafening.
I can hear your dead heart, creaking, groaning, wheezing, moaning, hissing, murmuring,
Or is it only musty misery screaming in my own mold stomach?
You lie down still, a casualty for foresters to clear.
Like sharp, pinched pain smothering me.
I’m fighting to stand straight; Branches crashing off my body. Amputate.
The thunder drowning all my leaves; They’re bowing down.
Your last words whisper up to me.

I am a young tree, standing still.
Still, I’m learning how to rise above the hills.
Brother, the mist shrouds your now dead form.
I understand; you, who I once thought perfect, were also at the mercy of the cold, the same as I.
The last breeze numbed you; as your gnarled, grey skin grasped and gasped to breathe.
I quiver, warming, hushed. Converting starlight into silent, singing peace.
I needed you.
Now I need to live as me.
Dig my roots into the dirt; grow green.
Still. Strong. Free.
Other saplings look to me, a redwood in their forestry.
I also will fail, fall, fear. They’ll grow taller than me. Stronger. Browner.
Learn to leave my musty, leathered lessonings,
As I left yours.
Each must become their own fresh greenery;
The warn, frozen antiquities will only sleep.

Each must become their own fresh greenery;
The warn, frozen antiquities will only sleep.

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