Grandfather fell out of a tree
Hanging the rope swing carelessly
We tried everything to make him well
We cut down the tree from which he fell
That Fall would be Grandfather’s last

The tree grew back again in Spring
A vulgar and unwanted thing
Grandma stood out in the yard, aghast
That a tree sprung up so large, so fast
That Spring would be that damn tree’s last

Because we burned that cursed tree
For what seemed an eternity, to the ground
Rolled a giant stone over the spot where it had grown
And in that stone, we carved a warning
A sort of monument to mourning
And we recited incantations and anointed it with oils

The roots soon wrapped around the stone
And crushed it to pebbles on their own
We bore holes in the surrounding earth
To determine the root system’s girth
The excavation had begun

Well, we must have struck a vein
For from the darkest mud, there came the bubbling blood
Soon it swelled up past up our knees
And then up past the tallest trees
To fill the valley

Those who would survive
Would eat the rest to stay alive
In a raft that we all fashioned
From the roof of some old chapel
And if we keep this ship afloat
There’s no telling where we’ll go

from ‘Keep Dreaming’ 2013 / ‘Battle to the Death’ 2011

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@ the new trust 2013