Breathless

“I wanted to breath in one last time, not only to save me, but to also save you.”

The sound of your blade sliding through your enemy could be heard throughout the forest. It echoes in the stunned silence of your enemy’s army, their once leader, now lies upon the earth’s soil dead. Blood flows and darkens the surface of the soil, enriching it, before digging itself into the ground to become one with the underground spring leading into the open arms of the river.

Your celebratory battle cry, parts the heavens and with that, the thunder roars itself to life, drowning out the anguished cries of your enemy’s men. The tears of relief from the sky, fall upon your warriors, quenching their thirst. It quenches our thirst too. But so does the blood in the earth. We, who have towered over you as an ancient civilization over the many generations, have watched as bystanders. We have watched your ancestors grow up and create the tales that you have read in your history book growing up.

We have watched you too.

Even your own kind fear you. They fear your greed.

The storm is gone by morning and the sun shines through on your battlefield. You are gone, but your future is here. They look upon the very same land that you became their ancestor on, this same bloody battlefield. But now that the storm has perished, and the sun has risen up, causing the leaves to shimmer and the heart of the forest to start beating once more. Your future looks upon it all and says ‘beautiful’.

They lie.

Where you once sliced your enemies with your weapon, you now slice me apart. You cut through my armor, into my flesh and watch me bleed and fall to the ground, to your feet. and if I do not fall by your blade, you burn my flesh into blackened charred coal. I have watched you do it to my brothers and sisters for years. You take what we have toiled our whole life for, the fruits of our labor. We give you a little and yet you take, you take, you take... until we are nothing.

And when you set us aflame with an innocent crackle, the shelter that our limbs provide quake, and the creatures who had come to us must now flee their homes. They become refugees in what was once their land, where should they go now? ‘We will protect you’, your future promises in a silent whisper. As of right now, their promise is as empty as your heart. Oh, some of them try, and we see it, but there are more of you then there are of them who care and who dare to stand up against your authority.

Your authority which feeds them, clothes them, shelters them. But do we not do the same? Do we not care for them just as you do, if not more? You are what you are because you have taken what we are and broken us apart. You make your homes with us, you adorn your homes with us, you sell us as you sell your own, be it young or old. It all comes down to how well you don’t care.

And so, when you set us a flame as we have set you afloat with our bodies, we cry out in betrayal of all your future promises. And now we set out in the path of war, something you know well enough. You fight for wrong as easily as you breathe for your life. But what do you breathe? Who do you rely on when you have nothing? Who do you plead too with your promises of change?

You’re suffocating? So am I. You’re watching her, aren’t you? You’re crying too. You’re crying for your loved ones like how we are crying for ours.

‘I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry, please, just please’, let her live.

Those last 3 words are a silent gasp of pain that stabs itself into every cell of your very being. She’s your life, your little girl. She’s your daughter. Lying in that achingly cold room surrounded by monotonous white walls, doctors, and machines, trying to help her live, while you can do nothing but wait outside and pray. Your head rests on your hands whilst you sit and wait. You can’t help but think about the once lively girl with pretty flower crowns on her head, and how she now thrashes around fighting for her life. Her chest jerks in and out to get one more breath of oxygen in from the mask. Just one more. And again, just one more. The nurse comes out and looks at you with hollowed eyes, she knows the truth and so do you.

‘The doctors are doing their best to save her, sir’, and then she’s gone.

The nurse and your little girl. You regretted that she came to your work that day, to see daddy being in charge, to see what the big life has to offer, to see how you set the heart of this world aflame. You lost her when she was in front of you surrounded by the best in the land and you lost her in that forest you set to become ash. You lost it all, we whisper. Just like us. We lost it all too.

‘We did the best that we could do but her lungs had taken in too much carbon dioxide and the injuries, of when the tree had fallen on her, had caused a few of her ribs to penetrate her lungs among other critical injuries. We’re very sorry for your loss.’

They’re sorry? They’re sorry?! How can they be sorry!? They were supposed to be the best and yet the best can only say that they’re...sorry.

And now you stand wearing all black. Our sister looks more polished than when we last saw her. Our sister’s arms open and you lay your daughter into her chest, her arms close around your daughter and then they are both swallowed up by the earth and are covered with rich soil into which our roots grow. The only marking left is the stone you place at the head of the grave leaving behind a memory of your daughter’s beginning to your daughter’s end.

And then you finally listen to our pleas.

You finally take one of our dormant young and place it to rest, in the hole you made with your very own hand, upon your daughter’s grave. You visit often. My brethren watch as you take care of the seedling year after year. You water it and love it as if it were your own. And she flourishes under your attention. Her trunk grows sturdy and tall, her limbs branch out to the sky and the fruits of both of your labor, finally comes to fruition, when she blooms for the first time after three years.

She’s finally become one of us.

The cherry blossom petals were her favorite. You visit every day to look at the flowers, even when they start leaving their mother’s arms, from the sky above, only to reach your feet once more. One even lays itself as a crown upon your head. You pick it up gently with your glove-covered hands and cradle it. A flower is fragile, but it’s also stronger than you think.

‘It’s beautiful’, you finally say.

You can finally see what we see. You stare at the tree once more and see your daughter’s smile. She has her own flower crown, larger than anything she could have made before, and the skin around the corner of your eyes crinkle. Your lips turn themselves into a soft smile and your eyes glaze over. A tear makes its own pathway upon the rough edges of your face and you whisper an apology owed to us for many generations.

And we whisper ‘We’re sorry’ too, because even through all the war and heartache we both suffered, there’s a truth about that day which we can’t speak to you. But she knows. And that’s why your future smiled when she surrounded herself with us. Because even though we were enemies, we still cared about yours. We still tried to capture the smoky depths of the hellfire you lit, we still tried to resist your blades with our armored trunks, and we would still do it over and over again.

No matter the hatred or greed you had for ours, we still wanted to breathe in one last time, not only to save ourselves, but to also save her and now you see it for what it is. What was once considered a lie of beauty and an empty promise of protection by your future, is now considered differently by us and by you. Because you changed it, you took that first step that was needed and brought one of us to life. Now you know that the past’s empty promises have now become the unforgettable truth.

And

It all started with you.