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Tears From The Sky This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   As I stand here and watch the body,

The anger against the humans rose.

The rain brought happiness,

But now,

It brings sadness.



It's silent here.

Nobody said anything.

The birds aren't singing anymore.

No butterflies carrying pollens.

Just the gray silence,

With anger packed inside.



Many trees are dead.

Many branches just hung.

No leaves.

No flowers.

I used to have big wonderful branches,

In full bloom.

And birds used to come and sit on me.

But not anymore.

Just the gray silence,

With sadness packed inside.



The smell here is different.

There is no more smell of the flowers,

And creatures.

No more smells of fresh leaves and grasses.

Just the gray silence,

With tragedy packed inside.



The rain brought happiness,

But now,

It brings sadness.

***

Fartha sang at the funeral of her husband.

"It's not fair!" Martha's crying echoed throughout the woods.

"Nothing is fair, Martha." Old Tim said, trying to cheer her up.

"But Tim! We did not do anything that caused Joe's death! It was the humans!"

"We know that. We know you're upset, you should rest."

"Upset! I'm more than upset! I knew that Joe was getting sick. His needles were turning yellow, and yet WE couldn't do anything! Humans don't care!"

"But humans DO care."

"No, they don't! All they care about is MONEY!"

"I've heard that the

humans are getting affected too."

"I don't care about them! They are the ones who caused it! They deserve to die!"

"Martha, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? My husband Joe has been murdered by humans polluting our rain! Do you know how hard it is to see my Joe lying dead here?"

"We understand,"

"No, you do not understand my feelings! Nobody does!"

"Yes we do."

"No you don't! Just because we can't talk, that doesn't mean we should get sick and die! I hope something like this will happen to humans too!"

Martha started to cry again. Old Tim did not know what to do but to hope that humans would cure the rain as soon as possible. To Old Tim, money didn't mean as much as the lives of his friends meant. After all, like Old Tim, trees have lives and feelings too.

Then Old Tim thought of an idea.

"Martha, why won't you write to the humans?"

"Write what?"

"A letter telling how you feel."

"They'll never understand."

"You never know 'til you try."

***

Dear Humans,

My name is Martha and I am 200 years old. I am speaking for my people's rights.

I do not believe what humans are doing to us is fair. There are many of us dying because of the humans polluting our rain. It is our rain too. Rains are very precious to us. It makes us grow taller and stronger.

Recently our people are getting yellow needles, unhealthy leaves, branches and flowers. We are innocent. We have not done a thing that would have polluted our rain. We even clean the air for you.

Last week, my husband died of acid rain. He is just lying here waiting to decay and I have to live watching his dead body every day. That is too much for me.

Though we are the victims, we cannot do anything. We wish we could campaign to let humans know our feelings, but we can't. We do know that some humans are trying to fix our rain, but it has to be ALL of the humans. We hope that every human on Earth will note about acid rain and try to fix it. Every individual on Earth can help stop acid rain. It is not only the factories' fault. It is the fault of all humans.

We think the quote, "Justice for All" applies to every living thing including us, the trees. We want you to know that we have feelings too. We do not want to die just because of humans polluting our rain. We trees also have lives. Our lives are precious to us.

Rain used to bring happiness. We were able to grow, blossom, and be able to give birth to other lives. But now, it brings sadness.

So please...Every human being on Earth, try to cure our rain before it's too late.

Sincerely,

Martha n


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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