Photosynthesis

I'm struggling, petrified of the dark, entwining branches of the tree of life

which are ambushing me, squeezing the red blood from my veins and the air that I breathe from my lungs. I am running, without moving, as I am crucified and impaled on the sharp threatening twigs. I fathom in my deepest center of my being that there can be no escape. The live oak tree is layered with Spanish moss, trapping mites which take hunks out of my skin with greedy little scissor mouths. It absorbs my nutrients by sucking my body fluids with glee and abandon.

The hovering crown of the tree absorbs dust and particles from the polluted air which I gulp hungrily but also prohibits the rain from reaching my thirsty open mouth. I am so parched that it compresses my bones and twists my organs. The leaves of the massive tree use the sun’s energy to convert carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and water from the soil into sugar and oxygen. I watch as the ominous tree greedily absorbs the sugar and stores it away without allowing me to get so much as a mouthful. I gasp as I attempt to absorb oxygen before it is released to the sky but am unable to claim its largesse.

I can’t comprehend why the tree is so reluctant to share its bounty, insisting on entrapping me in its web of roots and branches.

I remember from my science classes, which I mostly ignored, that the tree has heartwood in the middle but why is there no beating heart to support me?

I watch in utter horror as the cambium tissue grows another thin layer adding a covering to the tree, ambushing and enmeshing me in a thin skin. I slap and whack this quagmire but it won’t let me go. I sense the sticky encroaching sap which accosts my skin, gluing me to the tree. The sinister bark encapsulates me in its coat of armor.

“Please,” I beg, “release me from this torture and let me seek the cool earth which will blanket me with its warmth, allowing me to sleep the deep slumber. I no longer desire to be part of this intimidating world.”

I close my eyes and accept my impending death with gratitude.