7.5
April 15, 2019

For the Wild Ones who Sing to the Moon. {Poem}

A post shared by ecofolks (@ecofolks) on

No matter

how hard they try,
they cannot
keep us apart.

They can pour concrete
over the rich, dark earth,
put us in a plastic chair
inside a Sheetrock box,
hook us up to electronic devices,
and tell us
we have to stay there all day…

and still we will be
breathing the breath
of towering pines
growing on rugged mountain slopes
and tiny green plankton
floating in distant seas.

And even though
the water we drink
travels through many miles of pipe,
is doused with chlorine,
and may be contained in plastic bottles…

still we will be drinking water
that has tumbled over granite boulders,
hibernated in frozen lakes,
and reflected the morning sun
from a spider’s web.

And even though the salad we eat
may be grown hundreds of miles away,
harvested and washed
by hands we will never see,
and packaged in a plastic box…

still we will be eating
leaves from plants
whose roots embraced the fertile earth
as their tender, green bodies
reached toward the light.

And no matter how relentlessly
we have been trained
to sit still,
to hold our tongues,
to follow the rules
(even when they make no sense),

still we are animals
of flesh and blood,
kin to deer, bear, and whale,
with deep wisdom in our bones
and untamed passions in our hearts.

Still there is a wild one inside us,
running barefoot through the forest,
gathering sweet berries,
dancing around the fire,
singing to the moon.

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