DirectingOurVision

The new Lady Gaga video shows the reality of sexual assaults on Campus

an important lesson about making mistakes:

At the end of the tunnel

leading to Red Lab,

pinned to the post that

juts from the rough-hewn brick

by a yellow tack,

rests the sign.

In the voice of an enraged

slam poet,

the thick pen letters seem to

call out every person who

trudges by in the

sleet:

WHERE ARE THE TREES

No question mark to end stop

the scream, like a shepherd 

able to crook his flock from around the body

of a fallen sheep.

I continue to pass the grass glade each day.

The red flowers grow in splotches

around the disturbed earth.

Puddles gather in the furrows,

still filled with reflections of an autumn

that will not come this year.

It is as if a cemetery belongs here.

I feel the hollow ground echo in my

heart:

WHERE ARE THE TREES

as if asking,

is this the price of recovery?

The willow trees offers 

ransom to me,

the last leaves of the missing trees

sell themselves to the soil,

a backwards auction,

and the paper sign seems 

to call softer now,

sobered by its own creation:

WHERE ARE THE TREES

As if by a pin too, the sign and willow 

hold me heart and foot to this place 

where, weeks ago, a sycamore

screamed like a chainsaw,

its roots forgotten,

limbs drawn and quartered from its body

in mock redemption.

They seem to beg 

in grief for the return of the trees;

angry less at the destroyers

who ripped them out 

for decay;

angry more with the

dying Sycamore,

who, in emptying,

left its rot

to feed them.

Some days, 

I fear this is the same

Gender flags <3

© Julia BREMOND - Guimauve

Feel free to like, share and follow me if you want my work to be seen by more people. I started to do some drawings about gender, to sell them and give money to a french association that helps people victims of homophobia and transphobia.