Author’s note: The inspiration for this poem came when I discovered a giant redwood tree, nearly 300 feet tall, that had fallen in the forest near Eureka, California. It was 1994 and I had been hiking with my 21-year-old daughter Jennifer, my 17-year-old son Aaron, and my 16-year-old son Justin. I was so moved upon seeing the giant down that I wrote the first draft of ideas that evening.
That was a magic time with my kids. Aaron, jumping and waving in his bright red hiking jacket, was the flailing fleck of color in the poem. Less than a year later Aaron was tragically killed. “Fallen” now has deep meaning for me on several levels.
NOTE: I have written an adendum, this day, Wednesday, November 16th, 2022.
Not personal photos. Used to show scale of naturally fallen redwoods.
My god
big as a house
great redwood
broken in repose
tangled root like tentacled mouth
ripped raw from breast of mother earth
massive girth
even prone
you still stand tall
and look there
look
way down there
my son
shoulder high to me
scaled
then strode your mammoth length
now at rest on this forest floor
he’s but a flailing fleck of color now
so small
so far away
yet still astride your hulking mass
mighty redwood
giant in a land of giants
soaring through the great canopy
of this majestic forest
thrusting skyward in your day,
and yet you’ve fallen
shallow rooted I observe
but deep enough to proudly stand
this thousand years
you did not fall unnoticed
in your thunderous final bow
so sad
your end
though all around you
new life
sprouting even from your fallen form
Not a personal photo. Used to show scale.
in this lush calm green
of nature’s vast cathedral
the eternal pulse of life goes on
not unaware of your misfortune
but certainly undaunted
yes
you have fallen
spire becomes spawn
and life goes on
(addendum)
but not for those of you
clearcut maliciously
victims of perpetrated
corporate fallacy
slain by human greed
taken solely for profit
masqueraded as need
such ignorant arrogance
brutality of no defense
foolish humans
spoiling the environment
robbing our atmosphere
of your valuable cleansing
of the greenhouse gases
we’re carelessly dispensing
we puke it daily into our skies
as the environment suffocates
and continually dies
that we can manage your regrowth
lumbering guilty lies
we stifle the oxygen
you so effectively provide
as we rip you clean
from every mountain side
until it’s too damned late
and humankind has died
once piercing the clouds
in towering mighty stands
you’re now the sadly fallen
taken by human hands
it is for you
I weep most bitterly
and for us
the fools unwittingly
blind to your miracles
quite utterly
as slowly
we kill ourselves
Not personal photos. Used to show devastation of human clearcutting.
*
original poem: rob kistner © 1994
addendum: rob kistner © 2022
environmental poetry at: earthweal
How tragic that your son was killed, Rob. Truly the worst thing a parents can live through. So moving that your title, Fallen, includes both the giant redwood and your lovely son. We have some trees as huge as this here too……one, on Meares Island, fell uphill and is called the Stairway to Heaven tree. I have stood on it. I love all the photos from that time………those years went by so fast, we had no idea how fast they would fly by……….we all thought we had forever back then. The photo of your child on that gigantic stump is so sad. Your poem is wonderful. The root system of that giant is amazing – astonishing. Your addendum is very powerful. I cant even fathom the ignorance and blindness of felling the very trees that give us breath and keep us alive. Humans seem to be a suicidal species. This is a very powerful post, Rob. I am so glad you linked to my prompt.
Thank you Sherry. It’s hard to fathom what we humans do so foolishly to this planet, but we don’t seem to learn. The young boy in red standing on the stump is not my son Aaron, he was 17 when we made the visit to the redwoods there in California. I just found that photo online and it reminded me of the moment not so much Aaron himself. The actual photo was never a digital file, and I have looked for it number of years ago, and can’t find it. He was actually up on top of a redwood trunk that had fallen intact And I was standing near the top of what would’ve been the tree had it been upright, and he had walked all the way down the length of the trunk to where the root ball was. That was the photo that I took. The tree was so huge he looks so tiny standing way down at the end of it. I wish I still had the actual photo, but I have the memory vividly implanted in my head, so I essentially still see it.
Our foolishness knows no end.
I hope the photo appears for you one of these days.
Thank you Kerfe, it will be cherished if it does. It has been a tender hurt ever since losing it. 😐
You are able to connect loss and life in a wonderful way. Your style always amazes me.
As long as there is money to be made, the saws will continue and there will come a day of regret.
Thank you True… 🙂 …yes, that day will come, unfortunately.
Incredibly sad and beautifully told.
Thank you do much Lindi… 🙂
Oh, Rob, this poem really touched me. I am in awe of these giant trees which I have never seen. And I am saddened by your loss, which I have read of in some of your previous poetry. My thoughts are with you.
Thank you Ingrid… 🙂 …it’s nice to see you visit my friend.
There is a kingly – lordly — sense of these giants, overwhelming human scale with girth of time and mass. Astonishing and profoundly moving when they’re lost. Have your read Richard Powers’ novel “The Overstory”? Big trees are protagnoists.
I love it when we visit those magnificent giants — breathtaking, overwhelming, beautiful behemoths. I have not read it Brendan, but now that you’ve mentioned it I will certainly read it. Thank you for the tip my friend.