On a busy Brooklyn sidewalk stands an oak tree. He taps messages to me in Morse code on the wall outside my bedroom window, pleading for me to let him in. It’s far too wet out here, he knocks in the springtime. It’s too hot out here, he taps in the summer. It’s too breezy out here. My leaves are being blown away, he taps in the fall. In the winter he bangs furiously. No code used then, just angry booms as he seeks justice for being forced to live out his life as a victim of the elements.
Upon entering or exiting my home, I cast my eyes to the ground and keep my gaze downward as he sneers down at me. I can feel the malice dripping off his limbs as I walk by. He often yells threats and insults at me. You selfish human, you are blessed with that huge house and you won’t let me in for a little respite. Doesn’t the Good Book tell you to feed the hungry and house the poor? The Lord above will curse you for not sharing!
My only option is to continue walking. I don’t look up until I’m at least six houses away. You have to harden yourself to the name-calling. You have to close your ears to the Bible references because that’s how they get you, they break your resolve by quoting scripture.
There’s a couple living in their car, just off of Adams Avenue, with their two daughters and their toy dog, Lilly. They didn’t have the fortitude to ignore the knocks. I heard that after their tree quoted from the book of John, they opened the front door wide and welcomed him in. Within a month, they were forced out of their home. The neighbors on their right tell of loud music and wild parties thrown by the oak tree. You won’t believe this, but that couple are still paying the mortgage on the house.
Tonight, the forecast predicts a Nor’easter for the tri-state area. I’ll make sure to say a prayer for my neighbors with soft hearts and warm homes.
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author bio:
Arlene Antoinette is a writer who enjoys dabbling in poetry, flash fiction and song lyrics. Additional poetry by Arlene may be found at Foxglove Journal, Cagibi Lit, Better Than Starbucks, With Painted Words, London Grip, Literary Heist and Your Daily Poem.