December Sunday I

by Yuko Otomo

what right do I have
to throw words like “a lost herd”
to the crowd on sunday before christmas
walking among them?

evergreen stands straight up & green
being sacrificed for our ritual
soon their bodies will be deserted
on the hard earth we walk on
just to show us they remain green
even when dead

both hands in pockets
I am full of ambitious hatred
for the fact that I was born
into the form of a homo sapience
“why am I not a smooth pebble instead?”

scarves, gloves & heavy coats
painted faces & ornamented hair
sweat for love
words for words

ah! trees! trees! winter trees!

a poet called you “veins & artery of heaven” —
looking at the way you proudly stand
against the endless sky
my dark emotions make me
want to climb up on you
to stay there on you
just to learn how hard it is
to hold on to a trembling branch
when a storm hits the earth at night

a baby, a man & a woman —

why can’t our needs for survival & salvation
be modest & light as a tiny bell ring
for the sake of beauty itself
for the sake of every embracing trees! trees!

winter trees!