What name do you give to the theft of grace, to the wanton destruction of beauty? Sacrilege perhaps, vandalism, or grievous bodily harm. Irreparable harm has certainly taken place here. Oak limbs which once stretched out like wide span fingers now stand stumped. The evidence of brutality, like the blank sky now revealed, burns clear as day.
She is truncated.
Without her woody hands she can no longer speak. Rigid stupidity replaces the eloquence of movement. No more rustling, creaking, whispering, howling. She is deathly silent. Birds, squirrels, bugs and butterflies look for their playgrounds elsewhere. Friendless. Alone.
She is forsaken.
Even the light now deserts her. It has nowhere to land, to dance to play. Ten thousand green faces lie shredded in the greedy yellow machine they used to shred her. Without them she cannot smile. Nor can she weep.
She is effaced.
And I too find myself stupified. Rigid with shock and disbelief. Nothing moves in me. I want to cry, to howl, to pound and wail. But I too am stumped . The sap of language in me quarterised. I have no words to express my grief, my rage, my utter incomprehension. A lumpen heaviness grips my heart. I feel violated, tricked, hoodwinked. He got away with it, the bastard. Whilst I was somewhere else, he stripped her naked, defiled every inch of her body and left her standing there for all to see. Rigid with shame. Forever witness to this day of violation. A sight for sore eyes.
I will never forgive him.
I will always love her.