Late spring evening,
a thousand turnstones sing
across the harbour
on what we mamalthni*
call Neilsen Island.
island of the river otters.
The birds converse
in their ancient tongue.
The Nuu chah nulth say
there was a time
when human and animal
plant and tree
spoke to each other
in the same language.
It is we mamalthni
who have forgotten.
But the living land and water,
cedar and osprey,
orca, wolf and bear,
must carry this wisdom
of interconnection
in cellular memory.
In counterpoint
to the moment’s rapture,
a boat motor roars;
a seaplane flies in, low:
we humans, being –
our cacophony and clamour,
our relentless encroachment
on the wild -
the thousand singing voices
fall suddenly silent.
*Mamalthni is the Nuu chah nulth word for white
people
-shared with earthweal, where my prompt is: Soundscapes
Our cacophony is deadly, isn't it... beautiful poem, Sherry. Reminds me of that recent discussion on the news on whether the offshore wind turbines are killing whales or not... goodness!
ReplyDeleteWhat we do not kill we deafen: such an errant member of the earth tribe. The counterpoint in the stanzas making this so evident is artfully, painfully drawn.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful but sad poem Sherry....We need to change everything. Cressida
ReplyDeleteThis is a sad commentary on humankind and how they disrupt with their motors and noise. Nature is so powerless in the face of human pleasures.
ReplyDeleteSo many languages lost...
ReplyDelete