By Serah Blackstone-Fredericks
We never wanted this
Or that’s what we might have shared if we had a say
We enjoyed the couple that snuck away and hid, pressed up against our trunk
Or that’s what we might have shared should we choose to stay
There is talk beyond the fringes of what we can comprehend
In a language of fire, destruction, and desire
For more than we can offer alive
And we so mercilessly offer ourselves in return
Without a say
Maybe we’ll be remembered for the way we kept dim rooms cool
Or on breezy days how we used to sway
The leaves we’d drop when the seasons shift
May it be someone will recall our existence
How we impressioned the awe and wonder of the school
Beneath the forest, melting into the sea
Held, no more
And our fate decided, prematurely
Serah Blackstone-Fredericks is a cross-disciplinary anthropology major at Cal Poly Humboldt, minoring in arts in health and narrative medicine. A writer, musician, and mother, she weaves together her studies with creative practices like gardening, cooking, fermenting, and natural dyeing. Her work explores the ways culture, storytelling, and connection shape how we live and heal.
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