justinloska Poetry (1)

This tree stood firm,
in the midst of a shadow,
a silent witness of all that had happened,
it could not speak,
it wept soundless,
the wind whispered,
'can I heal your grief?'

The star came and tried
to caress its twigs,
but this weeping tree
couldn't find the relief.
The moon flow to that tree,
wearing sparkling cloth,
motionless and mighty,
it drifted away...

Then, the sun called rain,
the rain - the clouds,
all these forces united,
solid rocks and mountains,
they asked: 'what had happened?'
then, this tree did answer:
I just want to die...