I´m real, believe me !

 

 

 

 

 

 

” …this is not the real me, but the mask  (persona)  I´m left with, when they cut me down… “

 

 

 

 

 

I´m real
believe me

I´m still a tree

I grew up in a forest
among other members of my family

I now live in the city
and work in construction

 

*

 

the citizens don´t believe me, strangely enough

and pursuaded me that
this is more real

” Who can just stand there ( in a forest )
grow, blossom and come to fruition
without money ?  “

–  as they so eloquently led the question
to the inevitable conclusion

 

*

 

some even believe
that I come from outer space,

what can I say ?

there´s something in the eye,
a sapwood, to say at least,
if not a whole branch…
and, by the way, it´s  the other way around …
trees originate from earth,
and grow up to the sky

– within certain limits

 

 *

 

I´m still haunted by an inescapable feeling,
that there is something strangely familiar
about these money,
printed on…

paper

do I serve them for the good,
or am I cutting down my own family ?