The morning started like any other.
The sound of birds, dogs barking.
The promise of a sunny day,
But everything was to change.
The trucks arrived, those with man-lifts.
Next came the urban loggers,
Men with helmets and chain-saws.
The killing of trees has begun.
My suburb of thirty years,
These trees of the same age,
Planted to give shade,
Rooted and solid all these years,
will be gone.
The permit issued was unbreakable.
The trees were marked to be fell.
Our green lung is once again attacked.
The urban jungle of concrete,
The sound of the chain-saw,
I felt their pain.
The cutting of branches and trunk,
I cried for their deaths.
One by one, they were cut down.
Silent, never fighting back.
Standing tall, awaiting death.
Why have you killed my trees?
When the chain-saws at last went silent,
the cry of birds could be heard.
They too were crying for their friends,
Their home, their shelter,
Looking out the window I see a war zone.
All that remains are their stumps.
Will that too be uprooted?
To erase forever their existence.
The killing of trees continues…
Where next will the urban loggers strike,
if you hear the sound of chain-saws,
…maybe it has started in your suburb!
By C. E. Pereira