FAIRY CREEK

 

Fairy Creek Valley
TJ Watt photo

I remember standing on the road
in the Summer of '93,
hundreds of us, holding placards,
hearts high on hope, and singing.
We stopped the trucks from rolling in.
It took the love of thousands.

It is 28 years later (!!!)
There are only a few
ancient forests left
on this Island that I love.
And now they're coming
for the big trees at Fairy Creek.

I can hear the Old Ones 
sorrowing on the breeze.
Cry of raven, song of wolf
plead with us to save
their forest home.

The trees tremble in fear,
holding hands across
the forest floor,as the noisy
grappleyarders move in.

Bring out your drums,
fine people.
Put on your jingle-skirts;
don your medicine bundles.
Shore up your hearts with
love of wilderness,
of life, of the hope
of a tomorrow for all beings.
Shine up your courage;
fortify your hearts.
Meet us on the road;
there will be dancing
and fellowship
until the trucks roll in.

The law will tell you to disperse.
Stand strong! This is not 
the time to falter or to bend.
Time to listen to the trees,
who are speaking with
their leafy tongues:

Thank you for coming.
We are with you.
We see the kindness
in your hearts.

The last of the Standing People
are calling. We place our bodies
on the road. We will stand firm.

If the Old Ones fall at Fairy Creek
there won't be much of a story
left to tell.

for my challenge at earthweal: Old Growth: Last Stand at Fairy Creek.

As I was looking at earlier poems, to spark some ideas for this poem, I found this one. I include it, just to give you a smile:

Grandmother Cedar,

instead of cutting you

to be pulped into toilet paper,

for wiping the

disconnected assholes

of the world,

we should be

worshipping

you.