image based on a dream I had a few years ago
I dreamt there came a newly found religion
instead of worship three, we worshipped tree
instead of pushed conversion, gathered free
and planted seeds, then danced under our cousins
til shining green in leaves from sea to sea.
To cut a tree would be a painful sin
our punishment not hell but death alive
Clear cut result a hellish damning din
with suffocation we will not survive.
So plant a tree nearby and each day pray
in hopes your neighbors see and follow suit
Revere your giant cousins every day
Your wonder if god exists will be moot
This is my second poem for Ingrid’s dVerse’ Poetics prompt. The last line is a bit patchy on iambic pentameter, but the hour is late and I’m too tired to tweak it.
I am also linking this to Brendan’s earthweal’s Open Link Weekend, per Ingrid’s suggestion.