Stunted

There is a tree by the mountainside,

Standing tall always reaching for the sky,

Everyday trying to stretch itself more to the heavens,

Growing wider so it can dance with the wind,

Growing deeper just so it can reach higher,

Unmoving but content, never dreaming of somewhere else,

How could he when he had the earth?

When he was blessed with the rain and stars,

And all these were enough to fill his heart.

But fate was a cruel thing soon out of the blue,

People came cutting him down, body and branches too.

Cut down to pieces for a lot of strangers,

Carved and further cut to what they wanted him to be.

I hope that his pieces become the pillars that guards someboy´s home,

or the pages that holds the words to somebody´s heart,

Or the boat that take someone accross the sea,

Maybe even the table that unites a family.

I hope that his parts means so much to so many,

Because cutting him down meant him losing his skies,

Losing the place he loved aboved all else.

There´s a hundred different things we can think of

What we could have shaped him to be

But never crossed our mind to wonder what he wanted

If he could, He may have answered,

¨To keep growing little by little,

closer to the heavens. ¨