chop down the tree

It comes to me in a dream, and i know even as i'm dreaming it that i'm going to blog it for my children.  
i'm walking on land.  The land is mine.  It belongs to Neil & i & the grass grows, the sun shines.  The flora & fauna abound & there is evidence of health and life. 
In the middle of our land, a big tree is growing.  It's huge. 
Generations old. 
The trunk is gnarled and black - and i know it by sight.  It is both ugly and dangerous. That tree is poison.  It grows so that it blocks the sun and it's twisted roots rob the soil of nutrients. 
The tree has to go. 
i cut it down.  & even though the land belongs to Neil & i both - & our children run & play on this land that is ours, i know that this tree belongs to me & that it will be my hands that bring it to it's end. 
Once down, the sun tenderly licks the ground that has been in the shade for far too long.  i'm sweaty, emotional and exhausted... but i know that i can't be finished yet.  & so i set to work on the roots - & Neil... mild & silent beside me is forced to watch and wait... because it's my tree, not his.  He's patient, but he makes no move to take the tools from my hands as i dig out those long twisted roots - piece by miserable piece.  The ground becomes a mound of sifted soil.  It has been turned fresh and black by my toil - as fragment by fragment, the monstrous tree is unearthed and discarded...
The soil is good. 
Things can grow in soil that is dark, rich and fertile like this soil... now that the poisonous tree is gone. 
i'm relentless. 
My nails tear - my hands are full of tiny burning cuts and i'm covered in dirt - my whole body is an aching shivering mess.  i pick out pieces of root that are as small as my baby finger - i refuse to allow even one sliver of it to remain... to re-root... to continue to rob my land.  Every shred of it must go.  On one side, i stack the blackened poison wood that is set aside for destruction... on the other - there is the mound of soil that is ready to be worked and prepared.  The soil is eager to produce a crop that will no longer be tainted by the tree that stood for so long - sucking the good to sustain it's growth. 
i'm doing this for my children. 
This is the land i'm passing down to them... i wish that there was a majestic oak in the middle of the land that i give - one that has stood for generations before me in it's pure beauty, and certainly, in different spots on our land generations old trees do grow.  We sometimes take them for granted, sitting in their shade, enjoying their fruit, admiring their aged beauty... but in this spot - i won't leave a beautiful tree. Instead - my gift is that the tree that stood there before my time stands no longer.  i am satisfied that this freshly tilled, fertile soil... is a gift too.  Now they can plant a new tree, sown with a seed of Truth - and begin a new tradition that will last for generations to come... watching it grow.