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West Virginia's Oaken Bones are Breaking
May 8, 2015
The hallow'd tone of breaking bone,
And the slow creeks of steady weeps.
The silent symphony of such pity,
Why, why must they die?
The dancing giants faint; a bloodied picture to paint,
For thickened blood seepd to saddened sod,
The vacant lot of beauty forgot,
Yet they speak of riches of oily ditches.
Who though will speak for wjom who can't speak?
Who will tell for those whom sorely fell?
© Allison S., Eau Claire, WI
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I wrote this because of the vast deforestation of my area, and for months I heard the sound of tree being tall and majestic to them be just piles of firewood. When I read this I cry I cried writing it because I feel that we do not have a right to kill such ancient things.