Tree - a piece of spoken word for Good Friday by Eliza Pelling

Here's a little piece I wrote for Good Friday, attempting to tell the story from a different perspective. Unfortunately, it was a bit windy when I recorded it so there is a bit of noise, but in case there're any words you can't hear, I'll put the words below. I hope it blesses you.

Words:
They chopped me down in the early hours of the morning
Just as the birds in my branches had begun to breathe out sweet melody, Just as the leaves I bore had started to unfurl in the light of the sun as it gently let go of the horizon, waving adieu as it set course for the west
It was time
I’d seen many a friend leave for the hill
To do their duty - to serve their purpose - a pawn in the plan to project the punished to the public so they could laugh and jeer
Created to help the world to breathe a little easier, and yet, here, in this forest, sculpted to spur on the final breath
It had never been my turn, but today, today was different
They tied up the parts of me that they’d sawn away, and dragged me to the foot of the hill,
Where they chiselled and chipped and chopped off a few more limbs, until I could stand as a mighty terrifying structure, heavy,
And raw enough to abrase the back of anyone forced to drag me to where they would be splayed open upon me
It was a few hours after the pilgrim of the sky had left the east behind,
That I saw Him
I saw them tear his clothes away
Rolling dice, deciding who most deserved the clothes of this man whom they regarded completely undeserving
I saw them beat his back till it bruised and it bled
Then I felt their hands upon mine, as I was raised off the ground where I had been laying
Suddenly, I was on His shoulders
I felt the shift as His body trembled beneath my weight, and all of a sudden I felt heavier than before
I felt as if I couldn’t have carried myself, so I couldn’t bear to think of the strength one would have required that He certainly didn’t have
This heaviness didn’t last, as I knew it would soon be me holding Him, as He would undoubtedly slump further from my embrace as time ran away

We reached the top
I hit the ground hard as He finally let go
He was laid on top of me, as I saw their faces towering above
In their eyes, something, I’d never it seen before
Guilt?
Reluctance?
Malice?
Uncertainty?
Triumph?
There was no way to tell, my vision was mostly blocked by this crumpled collect of flesh and bone
I saw the metal, a carpenters friend, soon to be the worst nightmare of this carpenters boy
They positioned it
They drew another tool
They took a step back
They surveyed the situation for a brief second, before the flash of familiarity
Just another broken man
A criminal

The screams echoed through the valleys beneath the hill
I couldn’t see but I could envisage every working hand, heads down would have jerked upwards at the resonating roar. as perhaps they always did at this time of day

It hurt to feel my limbs splintered by a foreign product of the ground
It hurt more to feel this wounded fabric of the dust graze my bark
To picture all the breath that had once been in this one man
Darkness began to descend
I was sure it was too early for stars

Slowly time took His body down with it, as my trunk stained with the red that ran in rivers from His temples,
His hands that I’d heard had healed
His feet I’d heard carried Him over water
The sap within me rose and fell each time His diaphragm expanded and relaxed,
Gently reaching lower peaks
In all of 10 seconds and an eternity later, He found the strength for final words
‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me’
To make sure the job was done, they pierced beneath His ribs
Body broken and blood poured out
One who’d offered Him wine declared, surely this man was the Son of God
Some sat and weeped
The pool of people protesting below us continued long after I felt His chest cheated of oxygen fall still

Eventually they tore His mangled body away from me
Ready to be wrapped in fragrances and cloth
To disguise the scars that would undoubtedly remain

Lying here now, discarded, in the boneyard bearing witness to such barbaric brutality
From a forest they all looked to for springs first signs of life,
To a jungle of carcasses guilty of murder
Lying here now with my brothers, it appears that they’re not all like that
I think the corpse I caused was something more than just the body of a man
There was something inside of Him,
Something different,
Something more

I hope there is more
More breath in His lungs