I can hear the cry of the sacred trees,
The giver of life as the axe plays part in a gruesome execution.
I pray for men of greed and lust that wields the axe,
For the trees are of spirit, forgiving but never forgetting.
I pray for the pain I hear from the woods as the chainsaw tries to hide the cries,
Their lives cut short in a never-ending attempt to furnish our fashions.
I pray that the spirit of the tree lives on to haunt and perish those lavish homes and palaces,
Where no regard to spirit be given.
God I pray,
God I pray,
Your garden of Eden disappearing as we, your children, look away.
And let me be there at Judgement Day and cry for the pain of the Spirit of the Tree
and let me look at you for here, I am unable to look away.


By Denise Tansley (2002)