a brutal cut
left wounded and bleeding
blood red life-blood flows and congeals
no one knows his name
his arm lost in the name of progress
making way for city expansion
Did he cry in pain?
ancient in wisdom
he stands tall
growing stronger every day

a brutal cut
wounded and weeping
tears flow and dry on her face
no one knows her name
her dream ruthlessly brushed off
it didn’t matter to them
She fell. She cried.
drawing on hope from deep within
she stands tall
growing stronger every day

A note on the tree in the first stanza:

The tree I saw walking through the neighbourhood is a tipuana. When cut, its sap is a blood red. It’s not hard to think of the pain of the cut when seeing that ‘blood’. This tree is a majestic example of how man and nature integrates. It’s limbs had been cut to make way for overhead wires. The tree itself was so old, I couldn’t put my arms around its base. It was covered in tree orchid foliage. Thanks to Jurgis for finally identifying the tree for me. No one around the tree, including the gardeners, knew what tree it was; thus my comment on no one knowing his name. Some day, I’ll go back there with the camera. There are so few photos of this tree online.

Some photos I found:

To get the full effect (this image is huge, albeit somewhat fuzzy) – You can see the tree orchid on the bark in this photo.


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