I. Hope
I planted them with the hope
That my foolish culture will soon desist in its
Suicidal efforts to sever the ties
Between humans and the Earth
The hope that my little efforts can help point others
The way back into the fold, the way
Out of the tangle of deceit woven
By the dutiful soldiers of the culture of death
The hope that in a few years
Or a few tens of years,
My grandchildren will pluck a ripe
Peach off the tree and its juice
Will run down their chins
And fingers and drip off their elbows
And their eyes will close
With laughter
II. Fear
I planted them with the fear
That my culture has gone too far
In its efforts to erase the ties
Between humans and the Earth
The fear that the insults have been
Too severe, the cuts too deep,
the wounds too grave,
the necessary bonds frayed beyond repair
The fear that in a few years
Or a few tens of years
My grandchildren will find
Them withered or burnt or diseased
Or broken by the axes of war
And small tears will run down their cheeks
And drip onto their dry little hands
And their eyes will close
With tiredness
III. Love
I planted them with the love
The singing, ancient, unrelenting love
That my culture has not yet destroyed
Between humans and the Earth
The love that began with the beginning of time
In the forests, rivers, deserts, shorelines, grasslands
And that, while now beleaguered, can grow again
As love is known to do
The love that in a few years
Or a few tens of years
My grandchildren will feel
When the green, leaf-dappled sun
Falls on their small upturned faces
And they will mouth
The sorts of heart-melting little devotions
That children invent in
Their secret shining souls
And their eyes will close
In prayer
IV. Resistance
I planted them with a raised fist.
I planted the chestnuts, pears, peaches, oaks, apples, pawpaws
Hickories, persimmons, elderberries, pecans, cherries,
Hazels, mulberries, apricots, willows, plums, blueberries
Walnuts, maples, locusts, all of them
Just because when confronted with
The grave injustice that is our culture
The only sane response is resistance
And the only moral imperative is action
And the planting of a tree
Or a dozen or a thousand, or 300 million
Is the necessary first step
Of the ten thousand first steps
We must travel
From this beautiful icy solstice morning
To the end of our days,
Carrying our hope, fear, love, and resistance
With us
Like the prayer
Of a child
