The trees canopy over my head, their beautiful green and orange leaves shining down on me, they seem to weep as they sway in the wind slowly going left to right

Until they were gone, no longer protecting me from the rays of sun above 

The frankincense trees that grow there have been cut down and now eucalyptus is planted in their place

 the land was taken without the consent of Indigenous communities

Taken, the trees absence prompts the burning of the sun on our soft skin

Soon we will have nothing but corpses just like the ones the trees left us with 

Burn, the sun burns and burns, slowly burning our hope away.