Roots

Her roots have long been rotten
Her leaves have long been dust
Her gnarled branches, cracked and broken
Her bark all mold and must
At any moment, a gentle wind
might tear her from the ground
So we use our genius to revive her,
to reawaken her renown
We fortify her dead foundations
with layers of brick and stone
Stilts and ropes return her sagging branches
to what we think we've known
Upon her bruised and naked body
We clothe her in plastic leaves
Upon her skin, a concrete bandage
seals her at the cracking seams
She does not move, she does not stire
but we sense that deep within,
something ancient, wooden and earthy
a dormant heart that can beat again
So we shoot her full of potions
to awake this sleeping soul
But they cure no cancer, no sickness, no plague
and yet the take a putrid toll
These toxins that we put within her
now leach into the ground
into the woods, the rivers and oceans
our poisons now resound
Death within us and all around us,
we pray for a spring to save her
But there will be no spring approaching
That will make her branches stir
There is no sun, no rain, no soil
that will heal her twisted knots
Her wooden heart will given no more life
Until she crashes down,
and rots.