Little Tree

In a world where a tree is worth more dead than alive,
Felled than standing,
I speak directly to you, little tree.
Your assigned value is now in your suffering
Rather than your life,
Your love,
Your inherent worth.
I see you.
I know your true value.
I smell it in the air I breathe.
I hear it from the birds that sing.
I see it in the lush green forests.
I feel it in the stillness all around me.

By Charlotte Hings

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