Poem Eight: Forest

Poem Eight: Forest

after words from Waorani leader Nemonte Nenquimo

*

Stories are living beings.

We, the river, we

the river. The river

we wash with the ash

from burning trees.

Mother Earth 

will not be saved.

She does not need

to be saved.  

Jaguars crisscross

asphalt.

Give back the blood of the land. 

Bones of our elders.

Give it back. 

Stories are living beings. 

Whistle of the piha.

Chant of howler monkeys.

The highway accelerates

destruction.

The highway accelorates

birds falling from trees

A god wakes

in the trees.

Put your hands 

over your ears.

*