This world looks at trees
and sees none 

How many trees have supported your paper?
Your ideas are full of tree dust.

How many trees have built up your home?
Your life is lived in tree matter.

Where are the protests for the voiceless?
Where do we sign up
to march for trees?

Because I treasure their silence 
I treasure the gentle leaves 
they are like wind chimes.

I pressure the silly doubts into gold
the tree is like glitter.

How hopeless can one lonely voice become
when the trees that surround her 
are thrown down like dirty cloths?

Do not wash your hands on trees
do not choke 

The tree
stands like a yogi
I sit at its roots

and become its silence