Ballad of the Sequoia
_Six hundred years ago,
My seed was planted in the ground,
_A life so full of promise,
And the green grass all around,
_Since then, I’ve weathered storms;
I’ve seen my brothers come and go,
_But here I am still rooted,
In this valley here below.
_Five hundred years ago,
I was a sapling, young and strong,
_An eagle soared above me,
And I heard his mighty song,
_I said one day I’d meet him,
In the heavens, clear and blue,
_Not knowing of the fire,
I was soon to be put through.
_Four hundred years ago,
The raging sun stretched out his hand,
_The grass around me withered,
And I too was rough and tanned,
_The reaper came through smoking,
And with flames upon his breath,
_I felt his scourge upon me,
And I wrestled then with death.
_Two hundred years ago,
A mountain cracked its highest peak,
_A host of jagged boulders,
Tumbled in a doleful streak,
_They sang the reaper’s melody,
Like tombstones in the dark,
_And all did gather round me,
As they chipped away my bark.
_One hundred years ago,
I had grown weary, I was weak,
_The seasons were so heavy,
That my spirit then was meek,
_The reaper came a callin’,
With a touch as cold as ice,
_I sent him on his business,
But I soon would pay the price.
_For here I die at last,
A great sequoia, tall and grand,
_The reapers come to take me,
With a logger’s axe in hand,
_I’ve loved in spring and summer,
And I’ve said goodbye in fall,
_I froze to death in winter,
Now I’ve heard the reaper’s call.
Lauren V. Leon is a pianist, amateur poet, writer, and artist. She resides in Riverside, California, and works as a Catholic parish musician, choir director, and private piano instructor.
Sequoias are amazing; It’s a bucket-lister for me to see one. They remind me of a scripture in Isaiah when it say that the days of my people will be like the days of a tree. A tree doesn’t die of old age—something has to act upon it. Great concept to write an anthropomorphic poem from their perspective.
Lauren, A good poem tells a good story, and there are few stories as grand as the epic tale you tell here! Where I live I am surrounded by the rotting stumps of what were once massive old growth cedars. Only a few small preserved groves remain to tell their stories, all too many of which have had sad endings.
This is a great musical poem with lyrics that tell a great tale about a living legend that finally was felled. In fact, as I was reading it, I began to reflect on an old hillbilly melody and sang the final verses. I have seen the grand sequoia trees and marveled at how much history they have seen–from birth to their final end.
I enjoyed this poem although it is always sad to see these beautiful trees chopped down. The old picture shows how amazingly tall and wide they can get.
I have experienced a deep sense of tranquility being amidst the Sequoia trees and also being amidst the Redwoods. Lovely Poem.