Mother’s Revenge

It was a big, black,
evil worm.
Huge.
And it tunneled its way through the earth,
devouring all in its path.
Worst of all –
it ate the roots
of all plants and trees it felt.
For it could not see – such evil is blind.
If it could see
it would not be so cruel.
But darkness always ends –
only light pervades.
No more roots lay below the ground,
and all plants were gone.
And so it was that the worm surfaced…
It bit a chunk out of a tree –
the last tree
– on earth.
From this tree he had already chewed the roots,
and so it fell.
It had been a majestic oak.
As the monarch plunged to his death,
he made one last thrust against all evil.
He pierced the worm’s body with a bough,
and so his murderer became his victim.

Yet,
although the worm was dead,
it had already devastated the earth.
But, as the King died,
a tiny prince fell off the end of a branch,
and rolled,
out,
into a world of desolation.
The acorn tumbled,
and stopped,
resting on two stones, above the earth –
no throne for an heir.
And Mother sighed…
Her children all gone, and not even buried.
Her grey mood clouded the sky, and she wept.
At first it was just the odd tear then she sobbed,
endlessly, and violently.
The earth cringed in submission, apathy,
and repulsion,
at the carnage all around.
And as the sod shivered and shook
under the strain of the downpour,
from Mother’s tears,
the two stones that held the royal babe shuddered,
trembled, and fell apart.

The acorn fell into the sodden earth
and felt a sudden warmth right through.
Mother’s sobs retracted
and the earth settled,
some over the seed.
The warmth inside the shell continued – days long.
A soothing,
almost spiritual, feeling.
It warmed right through the kernel which,
encouraged by this feeling, expanded,
cracking open the shell,
shooting a small white root into the soil. Weeks later,
through this same sense of security
a new tree sprouted
and pushed its bowed head through the soil,
up into the open world.
One little tree on earth.
Mother had cried, and then, in secret,
had smiled- just a little,
now and again,
causing the seed to flourish.
Now, with her eyes wide open, she smiled out loud.
Sunshine was born again.
But Mother did not want to get beat,
not like before.
So she, unable to curse,
put a green spell on the tree child,
to make it grow fast,
straight,
and proud.

No oak,
of the old world,
ever took on such a voluptuous form.
This tree grew tall,
but not gross, nor lanky.
With a girth in direct proportion to its height,
and with a crown that was perfect.
In this world there were not just oaks,
for this tree was special,
each bloom would foster a different fruit.
There would be other trees,
other plants,
and another chance.
Exotic birds with graceful flight
and delightful voice
would sing in their boughs.
Leaves of imperfect symmetry
would show perfection,
would wander from folded grey fingers in spring,
to rich green palms in summer,
and to golden rain in fall.
Blooms of various colour, and scent,
would grace the tree each spring.
And seeds of wonder would fall,
sprouting into new families of trees.
It was a new world,
with a fresh hope,
and the sun shined once again.
The only rain that fell were Her tears,
tears of joy.

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