Monday, April 22, 2019

The Trees of Clayoquot Sound


You breathe out
I breathe in
and I am struck with wonder.
You are so kind,
so generous.

In your majestic presence
I feel deep peace.
You are the Bodhisattvas
of my morning,
the lungs of the planet.
My own lungs
rise and fall with yours.
You cool us with deep shade
when the sun would scorch.
You help make rain
when the land would otherwise
be parched.
Skybirds and small creatures
find rest in your branches,
singing their gratitude.

How is it so few understand
this simple truth?
We need you.

I put my body on the line
to protect you,
yet year after year,
more and more 
and more of you
are gone.





This weekend was the 35th anniversary of the Tla-o-qui-aht people declaring Meares Island a Tribal Park,  saving it from being clearcut. I am fortunate to live within walking distance of these beauties. They are my cathedrals.

But not far from here, the last of these forests are still being logged, which is unthinkably short-sighted.  I am  astounded by how far mankind has disconnected from the natural world. We are reaping the results of that disconnection now, with rising temperatures, floods and wildfires.



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