Tears of the Forest

[MoseyWalker]

not mine.........


http://www.bigisland.com/~stony/poems1.html#tears

As I slowly walk in this warm-blooded, vibrant, lush ,green forest fragrant with the scents of cedar, pine and a plethora of flowers all lovingly kissing me, I inhale the pungent, pleasing scent of earth enfolding me in Mother Earth's loving embrace. All that surrounds me pulsates and ripples with the melodious rhythms of life.

As I strip and stand contemplatively in the midst of this unending beauty, my senses pause, absorbing the exotic, erotic, beauty of it all. Hugging sister cedar tree I feel her heartbeat bursting with rich, robust life! She is strong and happy! Gazing at her I see her umcompromising strength, her magnificent size speaks to my soul telling me she has stood sentinel here for many, many moons

Listening to all her voices, I hear my feathered relations singing and nesting, bringing new life forth from the safety of her luxuriant hair. Her sweet, gently spirit speaks to my soul of spiritiaul freedom and honoring of the spirits. "Protect and treasure it" are the words and feelings flowing into my soul

Breathing deeply of the acoustically scented air, the sacred cedar's breath calms, cleanses, blesses and bolsters my spirit, giving me clarity of thought and renews my inner being. Contentment and connection flow within my spirit. All is walking in beauty

The harmony and tranquillity of this sacred, honored place is suddenly shatteered by the horrific, thoughtless intrusion of modern technology! An ominous sound echoes throughout this sacred haven, a sound that promises death! a chainsaw! Big. Loud. Deadly. It is here to keep its deviant promise Its mechanical teeth, honed to razor sharpness glint in father suns brilliant light, flashing its message of death to all Mother's children. The mechanical blood of this steel demon drips silently onto the ground below polluting all it touches, finding yet another way to kill

The human force guiding this instrument of death's construction tightens its ghastly white grip and stands in front of my beloved and beautiful sister with grinning anticipation. It cannot wait to destroy this Mothers child!

The sharpened chain teeth bite viciously, mercilessly into her soft, yielding, tender flesh

I feel my spirit weep and shudder with anger, pain and disbelief as sister cedar calls out to me in unendurable pain and agony, "why, Why do they do this to me?" She shudders, cracks and stumbles as she sings her death song and dances her death dance. She is falling, falling to Mother Earth below. Before she strikes the ground I weepingly watch as her body slowly, painfully sheds the tears of the forest onto Mother Earth. Cascading down as if in slow motion, they know the end is here. Gentle as a feather they alight on the forest floor.

A final unforgiving crack, groan and thunderous roar and my vibrant, beautiful sister cedar lies on a soft bed of moss, silent. Still. Still. Blinded by my tears, I find my way to her side and gently, lovingly stroke my fallen sister and feel her strong spirits fire fade. Oh, sister, I feel your pain and muted sorrow! I only I could stop it, change this path!

The human creature again grasps the instrument of death and destruction and gladly walks on to its next condemened victim. And the next... the creature smiles maniacally, finding in these mindless, needless deaths, perverse, sadistic joy

Sister cedar, I cry for your death and the death of all the children you will never bear! Barren sorrow crowds my spirit, darkens my soul! You have stood watch over these majestic woods for centuries and now your wise, sweet voice is quelled. Forever,

How do I stop the many human creatures from delivering deaths swift blows? Oh, I cry dear, dear fallen sister, I , too, shed the tears of the forest onto Mother Earth. For you and all Mother's children, whose lives all to the human creatures dealy white mission

"What can I do sweet sister?" I feel as if my hands are chained, poverty, inaction shackle my spirit. Beseechingly, I pray to the Grandfathers, Grandmothers and sister cedar's spirit as the wind blows gently from the East. "Much" whispers east wind, "Much"

[Stargazer99]

1. this poem has all the earmarks of an Native American lament

The white man rarely comprehends the beauty of nature or has much respect for anything but his needs.

[sweetheart]

2. the last tree crying