The General

The General had stood in this spot

and reached those long oak toes down

churning into the earth

he stood his ground over this field,

they bent the road around him

he stood his ground on this corner

while generations of teenagers

roughened their rides against

the thick gray of his skin

he stood his ground when they came for him

his last wheeze drowned beneath

buzz of the chainsaws

and menacing growl of the stump grinder

they took him down to the dirt

and used his limbs to warm their winter;

All he is now are the rotting remains of his roots

lumped up under the ground, slowly caving

beneath the press of the gravel;

once he could take down a truck

now he is nothing

but what I remember of him.

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

JR, when I started this poem, I oddly thought about General Lee and his subordinates at Gettysburg (a place I've visited many times). And, I thought about all the bloodshed and later the visitors at that park, under those old trees, some hundreds of years old. Then, it became clear the tree was the general. Even better. They do command our attention, and can ruin man and machine. Even after we cut them down, remnants of them remain long after we're gone.

My father and I took down many oak and cherry trees where a house now stands, and I've made furniture from them. Even when we can't see them where they stood, they remain with us. Another good write, JR.

[JR]

Thanks. This tree was the one all the kids banged up all their cars on, and I guess the powers that be got sick of insurance claims and took him down. Everyone called him The General, and it was a very fitting name.

[Sarah Jane]

I absolutely love this. I have a willow tree in the center of my childhood and this poem made me think of it. Powerfully written to bring like to something most don't see as life. The personification is brilliant in this.

[JR]

Thanks, this old guy lived along a road I took every day to school. Sometime after I moved away they cut him down, and I drove by today and missed him.