Once, this forest was alive with the songs of countless creatures. The trees stretched proudly to the sky, their branches heavy with green leaves that danced in the sunlight. Rivers sang as they wound their way through the trees, and birds filled the air with vibrant color and joyous calls.
But that was before the noise came.
Before the thunder of chainsaws.
Before the earth shook under heavy machines.
Before the air filled with smoke instead of the sweet scent of pine.
Now, where there was once life, there is only silence and dust.
At the center of what was once a great forest, a small group of animals gathers around the broken remains of an ancient tree. They do not speak — they only cling tightly to the tree’s shattered trunk, trying to hold together the last piece of their home.
A bear, with heavy tears in its eyes, wraps one paw around the tree and another around a small elephant, whose once-bright spirit now trembles in fear. Beside them, a lion, the king of beasts, bows his mighty head, pressing it gently against the bark as if trying to lend strength to what is left. A dog, loyal even now, leans against the tree, its eyes closed in silent prayer. A panda and a tiger, creatures of distant lands, are here too, united in loss.
All around them, the stumps of fallen trees reach out like broken bones from the wounded earth. The sky above is pale and sickly, no longer vibrant with life.
At their feet, the small creatures gather: birds, squirrels, rabbits. They look up with wide, fearful eyes, seeking comfort in the presence of the larger animals, sensing the gravity of the moment.
The elephant, so young, lifts its trunk and gently touches the trunk of the tree, as if to say goodbye.
The panda clings a little tighter, unwilling to let go.
And together, they mourn.
Once, we were safe here.
The forest gave us everything.
It gave us shelter.
It gave us food.
It gave us life.
Every branch, every leaf, every blade of grass was a thread in the great web that connected us all. Even the tiniest insect mattered. Even the smallest flower played a role.
Without the forest, we are adrift.
Without the trees, we have no shade, no fruit, no home.
Without the rivers, we thirst.
Without the soil, we starve.
We did not destroy this place.
We lived in harmony with it.
We understood its rhythms — the turning of seasons, the coming of rains, the blooming of flowers after the cold.
But humans forgot.
They forgot that they, too, are part of the forest.
They forgot that when the last tree falls, they will fall too.
Please, hear our plea.
We are not so different, you and us.
We love. We fear. We dream.
We do not build skyscrapers or invent machines, but we build homes of branches and nests of twigs.
We do not write songs with instruments, but we sing with our voices under the open sky.
We do not draw maps, but we know every path through the forest as surely as you know the streets of your cities.
We ask you, humbly, to remember.
To remember that your breath is born from the trees.
That your food grows from the soil.
That your water falls from the sky that the forests protect.
We ask you to see the beauty that remains and to fight for it.
Plant trees.
Protect the wild places.
Teach your children to love the earth as they love their homes.
Because the earth is your home.
You cannot build another if this one falls apart.
We hold this broken tree not just for ourselves.
We hold it for you, too.
We hold it for the generations yet to come — for the children who deserve to walk through green woods and hear the songs of birds.
We hold it for the streams that still trickle and the seeds still waiting to grow.
We hold it for hope — fragile, trembling, but still alive.
We hold it so you might see and remember what is at stake.
The tree we cling to is old. Its bark is cracked. Its branches are few.
But within its broken trunk still beats the heart of the forest.
A heart that wants, more than anything, to keep beating.
You have the power to heal.
To replant.
To restore.
You have the power to save the home we share.
Please, don’t wait until all that’s left are stumps and silence.
Don’t wait until the last bird falls from the sky.
Don’t wait until you realize you needed the forest more than you ever knew.
Act now.
Love now.
Save now.
Please. Save our home. Save the forest. Save us all.
