the sapling

as a sapling I’d gall
watching the figures with blades
taking lives into their hands
and cutting them to be used

I asked “what for?”, for
plenty could be had for less
pain and death, for less
sorrow and strife

the bark was uneven
the wood flammable
and the options surrounded me
embracing me in coexistence

but I no longer gall at
the lumberjack at my trunk
I know they need no reason to cut
cutting is enough