If a tree falls in the forest
Nary a soul to witness
Did it make a sound?
If that tree was only known dead,
Was it ever alive?

How unfortunate for Life
Her value dependent 
Her memory reliant
Her impact contingent
On such a fickle idea

Testimonies on her behalf 
Evidence produced
Documentation time stamped
Only bearing fruit in acceptance
Only holding meaning if verified

She must prove worthy of inhale
As if her very breath wasn’t enough
Every step examined by another
As if the soil does not wake beneath.
Life, controlled by required authentication

Yet, she continuously bestows 
Continuously embellishes 
Withholding nothing from the world
Withholding nothing from us.
Life, giving to all what she never received

Now, her curse befalls us
A life meriting memory
Proven and disproven by those unknown
Experiences disregarded and unrecorded
Life, now intrinsically understood

Sadly, appreciation is not enough
No, the curse lives on
In lives forgotten through tiered importance
In written words only visited by paper himself
In audible voices falling on deaf ears

Life’s curse surely lingers
But, so does her blessing
So, we fight the good fight
We live, breathe, write, and speak
We complete Life’s story as she has ours

Life, beautiful and messy
Life, God-breathed and worthy
And so, if a tree falls in the forest,
I’d like to imagine it makes a sound
Even if just for Life herself.