Wasatch

{{{ This is my assignment for this week's Poetry class. It's due on Tuesday. Please take a look at it and tell me what you think, and if any changes should be made. I want this one to be read-in-class worthy. Thanks, all! }}}

Wasatch

That forest, those hundred-foot cottonwoods,

They tower over everything -

Powerful, majestic, eternal.

Deadly.

It is here, among the trees,

On this sweeping green lawn,

In the lush, wild, untamable forest,

With the clear, cold creek running by.

It is here where we lost

Our wife, our mother, our grandmother.

And here where we lost

Our daughter, our sister, our granddaughter, our cousin.

See that towering cottonwood there?

One hundred feet, tops.

The one that killed my family

Was even bigger.

We're not afraid of these trees,

Not anymore.

Year after year after year

We come back to remember - to immortalize.

It's been ten years now.

The two young memorial trees

Are growing strong,

A beautiful flower bed at their feet.

It is here where we return

To remember their lives - not their deaths.

We plant those flowers

For them - because they want us to live.

They want us to live like this forest,

Green and growing, alive, eternal.

The trees and us - our roots go deep.

We're alive, and we remember.