Pantoum of the Old Kamani Tree

Because it was not modern
They cut down the old kamani tree 
To clear the way for mass transit. 
Few knew its history.

So when they cut down the kamani tree, 
We managed the loss without nostalgia. 
Few knew its history.
It was planted at the College’s founding.

We managed without nostalgia
Because we had no use for the memory. 
It was planted at the College’s founding, 
A story that wasn’t modern.

Because we had no use for the memory, We let the tree go without protest.
Its story, after all, wasn’t modern.
We preferred the hard shine of progress.

We let the tree go without protest,
Green shade and scent of orange blossoms. 
We preferred the hard shine of progress.
But one man, in secret, wept for the tree.

Green shade and scent of orange blossoms, 
Its rooted place went with our history.
But one man, in secret, wept for the tree 
And gathered tree nuts in a last harvest.

And the rooted place went with our history. 
But the man knew the tree’s thousand virtues 
And gathered tree nuts in a last harvest
And crushed the ripe kernels into oil.

Because the man knew the tree’s thousand virtues 
And the place of its forgotten knowledge,
He crushed the ripe kernels into oil 
That burned in a lamp like a memory.

And in place of a forgotten knowledge 
The new station shone in its modernity, 
And the lamp dimmed into memory 
And with it the light of the future.

The new station shone in its modernity 
But without root or place or story
Or the light of the future.
We were left in perpetual transit.

Without root or place or story, 
We lost all direction and bearing
And were left perpetually in transit—
A treeless future, a place with no history.

Read more from Issue 19.1.