The tree in my garden

The tree in my garden

The tree on my garden is gone.

It was cut by a lumberjack

He looked at it and though:

It must go!

I was distracted, like a bug

With the light of the fire

The cracking sound of the wood

And the heat that warmed up

the winter night in November….

We distract ourselves like that

Sometimes…

And we don’t see

The danger stranger

Because we don’t want

To see it…

We distract ourselves with laughs

To pretend we are safe…

The tree on my garden is now gone

And yet its roots may still there

Maybe next Spring

It will rise again,

Against all odds

And will defy the hand that cut it off

And the distracted eyes

That did not stop it from happening.

Perhaps I am all three,

The lumberjack, the tree, and the eyes

That did not see.