I have been watching the light
on the great weeping birch
no, not through the year
just around the clock
at night, it was lit by a street lamp
in a light like apricot lifesavers
I could not sleep
From time to time I would weep, then
go back to watching the tree again.
I see her sweet face
wrapped in white, in the style of her country
this “activist” this “democracy advocate”
the great crimes of these Orwellian times
They cut her head off
Did the man who signed the order
not have a mother?
Is there no way to resign
from the human race?