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From the land you have attacked me,
With your own scabs and poisons,
The discharge of your infamy,
Into my womb from whence you came.
Even land creatures are my progeny,
Some left my breast for horizons,
To aspire to a landed community,
To become as human,
curse the name.
Yet for untold seasons I have loved thee,
And nurtured you for motherly reasons,
As I still feed you with my bounty,
Yet you poison my loving waters,
without shame.
Loving children you will never be,
So I must confound your seasons,
For my love you have no equity,
So I must relinquish you,
because of your own blame.
On the beaches heed the dead tree,
The victim of human demons,
I must engulf you without pity,
To save the Earth from that,
of which you all became.
**************************************
Will we truely heed the message of the dead tree? My poem is a metaphor which could yet be the reality.
Copyright Dennis Pennefather 2010
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