Shall I write an epitaph for this yew tree, its flesh so surprisingly red where it has been sawn? Shall I sing a dirge of 36 stanzas, one for each ring in its trunk? Shall I, its executioner, pray for forgiveness, me the lopper of limbs, the mower of lawns, the plucker of weeds? I am caring for the garden, a task necessarily violent, the good of the whole paramount. And so I will pray — for all those who care violently — the police and the courts, the military and its commanders. Like the yew, our flesh too is red.


Photo of a freshly-cut yew tree trunk.
Photo and text copyright 2018 by Danny N. Schweers

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Julie wrote:
Danny, this was very satisfying. I, too, have participated in violence with saws, pruners, secateurs, and shovels. Thanks for your thoughts. The picture is awesome.

Kerry wrote:
Oooooh! So good! 😊

Dave wrote:
Hey Danny, My wife is a police officer so this one is especially poignant for me. Thank you for your continued faithfulness to this vision.

Sandra wrote:

John wrote:
A good one.

Peggy wrote:
Beautiful prayer and photo!! I had a dream years ago about putting a crystal in the center of the cut trunk to help the live roots deal with it’s missing air parts. Somehow bring the Aura of the tree back into the roots?? Here’s an image I did on a locust log with Kuan Yin.

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