if only you could tell
the centuries worth of witnessing
your branches have beheld.
How from a seed a sapling grew
proudly into maiden-wood
and like a nation's infancy,
the adverse cities you withstood;
Persecutions and broken promises
from men of low repute
who shameless stare you in the face
and, like dogs, proceed with pee-nises
to pee upon your root.
The raping of the land and soil
over which you overlook,
the extraction of your fossil oil,
millions of years to pressure cook,
depleted in your lifetime.
The blood spilled at the planting
of a nation's flag of honour;
for all nations are cultivated
in martyr's blood and murder.
Tree you are an angel-in
the mortised world of men,
an arboreal aurora borealis
reaching up and out to heaven.
Green as green, the greenest sheen,
above your dark brown fissured bark,
your leaves of greenest green;
your fruit the love food of fruit bat
but poisonous to man.
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