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.