New poem: "The Hades Tree"

 

The Hades Tree

 

The spruce tree was in the gully standing tall, alone,

and inviting. This big tree would complete my cord;

but my pile was on high ground, and I had no choice

but to cut it down and haul it up piece by piece in 8-foot

cord-pile lengths. I notched the trunk in just the right

place, planning the fall close to my pile. My cut went well,

the tree fell, and I limbed it from the bottom to the top;

then I sliced the chain saw blade of my heavy Pioneer 620

through the tree, my hands vibrating violently, and severed

seven lengths to top off my second cord and 14^th day

of summer work. It was a sweltering, breezeless, pesky

black and deer fly infested bush-hot dry mid-July T-shirt

drenching day, but my Javex jug full of ice water, which

I replenished every evening and kept in my mother’s

freezer for the next workday, was still cold, and I gulped

down the temple-throbbing spring-like water for new

vigor and began to haul the logs up the hill to stack onto

my pile. I started with the thinnest, lightest, and closest

piece to my pile, and with each log that I hauled and heaved

with my hand hook onto my cord pile, I grew as strong

and confident as the mythical hero with the bull upon

his back; but with each descent to my fate, I felt the greater

weight of the thickening logs and my steps became too

burdened to bear, and I called on Sisyphus to set me free.

Young and full of zest (piss and vinegar, the old timers

said), I would not submit to defeat, and I summoned all

I had to up-end the penultimate piece up the hill and stack

it onto my pile. And when it fell into its destined place,

I felt as good as the man who mocked the gods, and with

a joyful heart I descended to embrace my fate once more.

But the butt of the tree was too heavy for me, and my spirits

sank with dejection. I drank some water, warming but still

refreshing, and I resolved to roll the last 8-foot log up the hill

and give my life symbolic meaning. I grabbed my hook

and commenced the task that set the pattern of my life`s

quest. I refused to be defeated by a piece of wood too heavy

to lift, and I rolled my fateful log inch by inch until I made

 it to the summit and my pile, and I called upon the mythical

man of willful defiance and hoisted the final piece of the Hades

tree onto my stack. Then I looked up into the clear blue sky;

and with salty sweat and tears in my eyes, I smiled at all

the capricious gods in heaven.

 

Composed in Nipigon, Ontario

Date unknown: 1990-2000