I grew up strong

in the wild grass

grander stouter

prouder than any tree

in my domain

reached my height

thickened my trunk

branched leaves to the sky

reached deep into  soil

knowing my destiny

one chosen to be

a portal between worlds

 

they came to me

the man and his boy

the young son cried

but did as asked

slit the necks of chickens

squawking to their doom

threw the blood spurting

squirting blurting

down  crags in my bark

while my sap grew thick

with pleas for pardon

petitions for favor

 

dark beings gloated

bloated with blood

swallowed the prayers

the desperation

perspiration agitation

of fathers and sons

and sometimes gave in

assented and twisted

tilted tweaked a link

in the  chain of events

making their mark

hiding the crafty  ruse

 

so that the slaves

parents  and children

would keep on coming

keep on feeding

the greedy spirits

pining for gore

and always more  

death streams floated

coated dessicated

into lacquer black

upon my flanks

and I gorged on their awe

until one morning

men entered my field

but turned their backs

dug out the dirt

and poured their bricks

and built up walls

to a lifted vault

planting within

and beside the doors

an effigy of

a cross-barred tree

sculpted stark and bare

 

my people came

but turned aside

to pray and sing

to the One High King

who made the sky

the one I climb

made the tropic sun

that fires my heart

who breathes his wind

across the plain

who hung upon

that ancient tree

 

and men no longer

force their boys

to plunge the knife

splat me with juice

of  dead winged things

no longer beg

across my bark

with incantation

for reparation

or some salvation

some medication

to ease their pain

 

those wily powers

that used to grin

malevolence

and deign to answer

only lengthening

prisoners’ chains

those beings grimaced

shifted stances

cringed unhinged

left my veins

and finally vanished

famished banished

 

how could it be

the symbol of

this other tree

torn apart by axes

traced into the mortar

of this long gray hall

how could this tree

have  changed the world

hurled the dark ones

made them flee

so that now suddenly

I find myself at peace

 

 

I listen to the themes

sung by men and women

I hear about the dying

of the One High King

whose blood ran teeming

gleaming streaming

down the limbs of

that crossed tree

while darkness shouted

then found itself chased

erased laced by Light

from an empty grave

 

I now stand free beside

this Once-for-All-Time

Sacrifice Tree

and wonder how

I ever thought

my blood-clogged seams

could be a crown

instead I shade

the son unchained

sustained claimed

by the King himself

made new along with me

 

© Linnea Boese, 2011