Wilting Sapling
I stand by and watch
As the helpless sapling is harvested
Too early.
Its silent pleading is deafening
Yet it falls
Upon these impotent ears.
I see it shy away
Shrivel at the unexpected brutality
Of a life it should not have known.
I too cower at the sight
How could I not?
Seeing the seeds of violence
Sprout viciously
Taking it before it was ripe,
Old enough to know
The dangers of the world
The dangers that I know
All too well.
I see those eyes
Begging me to help it.
But I cannot
All I can I do is write
And hope someday I can find forgiveness.
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