The tree that I am is aging. He saw the oldest die in a regenerating forest. However, death mows closer and closer to me and my branches graze it each time it passes: my forest thins out and creates a void around me. My tree friends are entering the cycle of great departures and I am part of the trip.
What saddens me is to see that mature trees lose their influence in favor of new shoots that follow the fashion of the moment. The young shrubs abandon their original roots to orient them towards the south in a soil where they risk losing their identity.
Similarly, the arrival of new species contributes to weakening the original ones, because they have a different way of rooting. Instead of adapting to the host silvicultural environment by integrating into it while retaining most of their specificity, they do not make the compromises necessary for a healthy harmonization with their congeners.
What will be the future of my forest? Will she be there in fifty years? Will it have a future or will it be talked about in the past as a folkloric phenomenon?
In essence, like a tree, a language takes root in its land and projects its culture all around it. If its survival is in danger, all means must be taken to protect it so that it can flourish and thus ensure its sustainability.
A 74 year old tree and grandfather of three growing shrubs.
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