I returned to the forest of my youth Verdant prism of flourishing greens Those lovely airs were reposed in my sleep I paused and pondered the civilized dreams Summer, Spring, and Fall - even bleak winter Entered my being and released my spirit A quiet breeze brushed me, I felt complete I waxed and wondered - Why do we forget? Let us Turn Back - She cries Turn Back Eyes with vision is what we lack This life giver is raped and sacked Spewing smoke-stacks, those spires of black Upon dark thrones - dark lords cough and hack Willful ignorance, deeds and acts My feet tread upon an ancient pathway Little known worlds beneath streets and concrete At the center of this long lost culture My conscious pricked, I followed a drumbeat I found and egalitarian folk Clansmen, freemen - tribe by affiliation Seminomadic - embracing earth and sky Bound only by geometric constructions* Let us Turn Back or fade to black Reality, it fissures and cracks Despoiled Mother counter-attacks Vengence black - skyscrapers to shacks Woe to us - too late to Turn Back? Woe to hands that brandish the axe I stretched out my arms to the bright blue The naked sun burned, my heart overwhelmed Vines entangled - a creative design I confessed evils we moderns have done Turn from evil, turn from our wilted way To the Garden before serpents found us Our dark desires we cast on the earth We bind nature as evil has bound us
by Steven R Cebula
anarchist, poet, student of Truth
* The Hopewell Native Americans (circa 100 bc - 500 ad) constructed geometric earthworks that exist to this day.