by Keaka Cagle
Oh oak of Mushroom Park
The oldest person I ever knew
Wrapping my arms around you
Before I had ever grew
You were the strongest and stark
Of oak of Mushroom Park
The snow is on the ground
Nobody’s around
There your body stands
The oldest dead man
The memories cling to your trunk
Like my soft hands once did
You were my oldest friend
Since I was but a kid
Oh oak of Mushroom Park
How you saw me grow
Every summer every winter
To you I had to go
I would retrace my steps
Every foot I grew
To reach the hills
That got to you
Oh oak of Mushroom Park
How a towering fall
Left out in the snow
A Caution to all
You saw my joys
You heard my cries
I thought you’d live forever
And then you died.
The Oak of Mushroom Park. Photo credit: a2gov.org
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Keaka Cagle is an indigenous two spirit peace activist and resident of Ann Arbor. This poem was inspired by seeing the fallen oak tree at mushroom park without prior knowledge of its passing, and was written immediately after that discovery.
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This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].
