Last Rites

The men walked toward me. Through my roots, I heard the clump of their heavy feet and the thump of their beating hearts. I could feel the rush of blood through their veins. It was excitement that I sensed. The same lust of a fox before it kills its prey. They think we do not have hearts. They don’t understand.

The faces of the men were concealed behind masks. They carried weapons. Unsheathed blades. The glint of these blades caused me to tremble to my tips. Many times armed men had come this way. But now I knew they would not pass. I am the last.

I am old, though not as old as the others. My roots are wide and deep. They know much. They knew what these men were. My roots pulsed in the earth, alive. I felt them, my heartbeat.

A mole, spooked by the feet, scurried over my roots. It tickled. The men drew closer.

Long ago, another stood beside me. We were close enough for out branches and roots to tangle into each other. That one is gone but the roots remain, dead and still tangled in mine. I thought of the other whenever I drew life from that earth.

The men were suddenly very close. One touched me with the flat of his hand. It felt hot. His blood was roaring. The other said something in his oral language and the one released me. One of the men pulled a string on his weapon. Even though I knew, I was still afraid.

The weapon began to vibrate rapidly. The man brought it low and I felt it pulsate through me—into me. It was painful. More than a scratch of a thin blade, this was deep. The vibrating weapon hit my core and still cut. I fell.

Falling was the strangest thing I ever felt. One moment I was upright, my leaves drinking sun, the next I was bending in gale-like wind, only I was the wind, free and moving recklessly. Then, my leaves were smothered by earth and I was as I should not be. Two places. My roots felt me lying in earth above them.

Now, I know my sun is setting. I am losing its light. I can no longer feel my roots. They are lost, dead as the other who stood beside me. As my sun sets, I tell the earth my name and the name of those who cut me. Murderers. But, I also add, I forgive them.