I stand in this shivering forest, stretch
toward streaks of light;
even blind I can see, my leaves -
the fractured eyes of a green Mayfly -
watch for your coming.

Like Odin, I dangle, see glimpses
of all that may be, hope my mind
is strong enough to recall the vision.

Like Christ, I wait to be cut down
and, by your hands and tools,
shaped to fit your image.

The kiss of blade to sever me
forever from the earth, to separate
trunk from roots so my nightmares
radiate with the darkness of soil.

The bark to be pealed free;
clothes no longer needed -
fed to the coals
while your rough hands
take coarse paper and knives
and search for me within the grain -
set me free
and bind me to a this new form.

Forever in your debt
my words spoken at your mercy
my acts, mere vibrations
at your beck and call.

Yet somehow I must
find my own footsteps,
break from the love and demands
you will place upon me
to find that I alone am real -
you merely a dream I once had
while my branches swayed in a storm
and the fear of death by lightning
overcame me.

Life is a terrible distance
to fall.

I wait for the kiss of your axe
and the plunge into my humanity.