Monday, August 10, 2009

Red Heart

Red Heart

The tree had seen an ancient tribe
camp down beside its huge canopy
and gather dried and discarded branches
to create the coals to heat the flesh
of creatures that had grazed beneath
or played among the shelter from
the burning summer sun.

The tree had seen the smoke approach
from fire, escaped from tribe’s control,
creating now its own strong wind
and fanned to heat so searing
as to shut down life outside of bark,
while red heart inside awaits cool rains,
drenching, flooding, life reviving.

The tree had seen the new creatures,
with the new tribe white and clothed,
march thru’ and cut and slash and burn,
digestion now a frenzy by mouth
and blade and plough and fire and noise.
When pain of saw and axe bit deep
thru’ sap wood, and red heart - crashed down.

The tree had seen thru’ life within
slow dying yet still living, giving, providing
for smaller creatures, many, gnawing, scratching,
still digesting, yet producing, earth to earth.
More fires now as many as the rains –
Then screaming saw and axe again, red heart
exposed to new tribe’s fires – red coals.


Wally Atkinson

1 comment:

  1. Love the poem, mate.
    Nice dogs, too. Not a breed I'm familiar with. When I had dogs I used to be a chihuahua/whippet man. For years.
    Cheers,
    PB.

    ReplyDelete