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The grove
I stare into the grove,
Where children once grew
Sprouted from the flesh of the trees
Born from the veins of the leaves
Yet no longer
For the trees have withered
The leaves have dried
The trunks have hollowed
The birds have died
But the trees still stand
Sewn to the earth
Their eyes stare back
But they are no longer filled,
All their children have been killed
They have no more light
They have no more seeds
Their are no more bees
My eyes water
And I cry
Long and hard
Wet and hot
I mourn with the trees
And so,I stare into the grove
Long unurtured
Where trees shrink and die
Where nothing will grow
Nothing will survive
Where not a child is found,
Alive.
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