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.
*