Trapped Inside This Tree
Woodsman, o woodsman, please come and cut down my prison I beg you woodsman. Bring axe, bring wedge, bring mallet, bring your sharpest crosscut saw I beg of you good woodsman. Oh, come soon. The next storm will bring thunder and lightning and I shall perish here in my prison.
Thud! What was that? Thud – thud. The woodsman is here. I can feel his sharp axe biting. It hurts. Please be quick, good woodsman. Ah, the agony. I can feel the cruel teeth of his saw as it rips into my prison; I am still connected.
I fall; I crash to the ground, now disconnected from the earth. I lay here barely able to focus as my life’s blood leaches from me. I am growing numb to the pain now as the woodsman finishes his task. I barely sense the heavy rope strop as it is cinched to the woodsman’s horse.
My skin is ripped savagely from me as my journey along the forest floor begins. I can hardly concentrate now. The journey has stopped. Thud – thud, thud! The woodsman wastes no time. Now he begins his task to free me, as I am barely conscious, to release me from my prison as he drives his cruel iron wedges deep into my flesh.
At last, he cuts me free. I can feel the sun’s warmth on my naked flesh. He hands me to the artisan who lovingly wraps me in a damp cloth. My true journey begins at last. The journey is long, but no matter.
I feel the warmth of the artisan’s hands as he carefully unwraps my cloth protection. His sharp tools begin their work. Slowly, carefully, I am being transformed, soon I shall sing to the world. Under his practiced eye, I take shape. O artisan, give me a voice I beg you. He lovingly applies many coats of protection to my naked flesh. He garnishes my very being with his love and tender devotion.