Inheritance Disclaimed

I went on a tour once
in the Botanic Gardens.
A night tour, the sun setting,
darkness crowding out the rows of flowers and neat shrubs.
Street lights filtering through leaves 
like flashes of blindness.
We gathered around a tree near Woccanmagully
or a cove of colonial farmers, depending on your degree of historical myopia.
One tourist tripped on a protruding root.
The tree reached under the Earth
and signalled its pain to its brethren,
shrouded in shadows.
Because we are choking nature
Without her consent.
The trees reach out with their frail withered arms
and we want nothing to do with them.
Rejecting the womb of humanity,
crafting it into our coffin.