In the place of the fallen tree
how many have prayed? In the name
of memories, in the silence of relics,
in the presence of placements of small stones
and not one Coke can.
In the face of the fallen tree
how many have sung out loud?
And how many have whispered a song
with dreamtears on their lashes
and traced their names on the earth
to be erased?
This shape my offering,
one more voice my gift.
In the ache of the fallen tree,
while it still aches, and before
the Coke cans come.