The Forest

The Forest

The Forest

This is a poem I wrote several years ago but it just surfaced again unexpectedly, so I thought I would share.

In the northernmost territories, where bald eagles circle their prey

Smaller birds are stalked in the open sky by men with pellets of clay

Grey wolves run in morning packs across the deep and pristine snow

Searching for food in rocky crevices where freshwater used to flow
Where fish used to swim, darting silver beneath the springs

Birds swept through the clouds with two strong and unclipped wings

Myriad stars hung like diamonds in the still and glassy night

Man and beast, Spirit and tree, all would hear the mountains sigh
Young men wrote words of romance in simple, earthy homes

Love letters to Nature and her Creator, the mystery of the unknown

They would tread gently upon the soil and swim naked in the lakes

Wonder what their hands might give, instead of what they could take
But the years have passed like minutes and the earth continues to turn

Sun bears have fled from the Burmese forest where rampant fires burn

And the gentle ones are silenced by the brutal spectre of money

Oil and waste now run thick where there once was milk and honey
There are no wolves left in the highlands, no tigers in Taiwan

No warmth in the winter sunlight, no tenderness in your hands

No innocence in the blood-red dawn that shatters across the sand

No mile of wilderness left to mature in this green and pleasant land
Tourists pick through keepsakes in the sprawling markets of Vietnam

And in the moonlit streets of Thailand, they are photographed by a man

With an exotic lizard drugged to stillness, and charms of elephant bone

All of humanity hacks through the forest, desperate to find its way home.

About Louise

Page with Comments

Please share your thoughts! I'd love to hear from you.

Follow

Get the latest posts delivered to your mailbox:

%d bloggers like this: