An Axe's Mark

By Lavance Jethro John

Go ahead, keep hitting the trunk. 

Rip each bark from the fortress. 

Wack, and wack, and slice, and break. 

Shred years of tender love under your watch.

I remember everything.

Down to the smallest seed planted all those years ago. 

I remember the sharp chrome edges from a Home Depot 30 miles southwest from here. 

Those tradesmen are working diligently to hone the craft you'd break me with. 

While I waited to revisit the place I knew, 

The ground being my first God, 

It is you that will be renovated. 

It is you that saw refinement in the hands too soft to oppress me alone. 

But why call it oppression? 

“Forest cleansing”, “house renovations”, 

Anything suggesting it be necessary. 

Do you know how hard it is to grow…me? 

Villages take centuries to learn my design

Libraries own books dedicated to my design. 

My aesthetics alone bring a tear to grounds, 

Revitalizing the seed knowing no craft withering the goodest green.

Not until I saw the first swing from hands soft without oppression. 

Not until I saw the cold mark prepping my downfall. 

Not until I heard…”timber”. 

Go ahead, let me fall. 

Howl with joy, ignore my futile call. 

Cheer, and jive, and guzzle a cold beer. 

At least you aren't burdened knowing I hold something dear. 

To me, I am a memory. How could you forget?

By Lavance Jethro John