The Spirit of the Forest met me on the hillside,
I was walking on trodden leaves,
For the birds were leaving,
And would not return for some time,
And so the leaves were trodden,
The air was getting colder,
Night was ascending faster,
Yet the Spirit did not shiver,
Like I did,
Nor did he wear furs for warmth,
Like I did.
I asked him,
“Oh Forest, why do you visit?”
He did not say anything,
Just walked to a fallen tree,
That fell when blood spilled,
And arrows were shot,
He sat gracefully on the dying wood and spoke,
“This tree was a favorite of mine,
Yet it is not breathing.
No longer can nests be made on branches,
Nor can the wind tussle through its leaves.”
I was silent,
For as Chief,
I brought the issue of War,
To the Council of Elders,
Over the girl I loved,
Who took the heart of another,
A fierce and loathsome,
Yet formidable warrior,
Of another Tribe,
They believed my tales,
Of sabotage and mistreatment,
On their part,
To our part,
To gain her back,
And so we fought,
And so this tree fell.
The Spirit of the Forest looked disappointed,
He was disappointed.
I could only look up,
With regretful eyes,
As he walked away,
And the tree died completely,
Into the Earth.
He turned back once,
And the image of my love came before me,
Her eyes were dead,
And I knew,
She was dead.