The Little Lime Tree

The other day I went out into the street, looked around and my heart sank…

A little lime tree opposite my house was broken. I had planted it several years ago. It kept being broken this way and that way. But a sprout in the ground was persistently rising to the Sun. I had fixed it to a stick as a protection against and a warning to passers-by. I watered it in hot weather. The little lime tree was gradually growing up.

On a sudden, somebody started erecting a car wash opposite my house. A truck of bricks has arrived. A driver, not bothering to see what he was doing, ironed out the spot where the lime tree stood. He broke it and crushed into the mud.

I squatted down at the broken lime tree. Tears welled up in my eyes, the tears of injury, frustration and helplessness. Why on earth are we trampled on?

No, I do NOT wish to live in this street. Nor in this town or this country.
But what other place do I have to live?