Carver Lawson, Special Projects Manager
The lumberjack visited my forest often,
I’d see him sweetly swing that axe
and for miles you could hear the thundering whack.
I’d always admire
how he could chop down
any earthy spire
and I thought “what dedication he had to show up everyday”
but it was only when it was too late
that I saw the price I would pay.
I noticed a wicked grin
as he cut my greenery paper thin
and he got bold, no longer taking one tree at a time but thirty-three
—that day he brought a whole damn machine to decimate me.
and how could I not have seen these callously cruel crimes
in all those traitorous times
he’d take and take
until I had nothing left to give
his fortune was always at my sake,
to him my prosperity had to die for his to live.
How could I not see it
in the way he’d cut to my forests core
removing thickets meant to keep him at bay, all for him to ensure I had nothing more.
But since him I’ve regrown,
as nature always does,
and I’ve been shown
visions of infectious insects
that swarm his mind
eating away at stolen solace
and now I can finally find
the justice in all of this