Remember the Birch

This poem was written during the spring, for an artist friend called Buffy that tried to save a tree (familiar to me) on the Barbican from developers and was intended to be used as a remembrance to its demise at the hands of an abusive contractor's operative.

Buffy had watched the lower branches and secondary trunk being cut against the protestations of her and other neighbours. The contractor's operative had been very abusive during this process. Buffy was unable to watch the final cut and left in tears and asked me to write a memorial poem for the tree to be displayed with a painting of hers on the site.

Remember the Birch

Oh birch that burns true, and is first to leaf,
And allows all plants, to grow well beneath.
Protect us from foes, with your noble might,
And help make sacred, this fair city site.

I call all rune trees, to come to our fight,
And guard us here with, thine magical might.
By the first spring birch. in the morning dew,
Rise above morons, that haven't a clue.

We honour you here, in this city glade,
Every root bower branch, and sacred blade.
May the green wood spirit, return to this space,
And those that destroy, never show their face.

Andrew Rea Spring 2016

I quickly wrote this poem and sent it to her the next morning. Shortly after sending it she contacted me and said: 'a miracle has happened the tree was saved by the planners moments before the main trunk was about to be cut'.

So did the poem turn back time?

The next week we put a spell of protection on the tree.