not in prayer asking to be spared,
or in anger wishing she could strike.
She didn't even have an offensive or defensive stance,
for she new not to fear or fight the moment.
She stood passively still
as her life was sliced.
Before she died, her questions
permeated the air,
How can you kill what gives you life?"
All of them perished in the same manner.
Her family, her friends - martyrs all
though they had no cause
except to be trees,
so we could breathe.
Sorry to post something so negative. I've been reading a lot about what's happening to our planet lately and the tree prompt became an opportunity to write about deforestation.
(Submitted to Poets United.)