Posts Tagged ‘Scribbly Gum’

Soliloquy of a Scribbly Gum

Friday, May 21st, 2010
by Editor 20100521.
 
a poem….
 

– – –

A Scribbly Gum here I stand

My species iconic, proud, but now condemned

They cast the red die on my girth, the red mark of death

So numbingly final

Glazed thoughts I can only muster

My roots here so ancient, means nothing to them

Scribblies flourished this land since Gondwana dawn

Pervading this old stone country high and deep

– – –

Once a wild place

A natural order, virgin and vast

Of times past, these primitive escarpments hosted wilderness

When old men Scribby Gums knew no saw

– – –

Came the getters, the settlers, the saws

For conquest, for progress, for their plot with a view

Wilderness they castrate, deemed it ‘battleaxe’

Ridges and valleys to the slaughter

Slaughter they sanitized, deemed it ‘clearing’

– – –

Some saw the wrong

Some good laws got through

Some Scribblies saved from slaughter

So why not protect me now?

– – –

Heritage denied me just trees away

Relegated from their Listing, on the fringe

Zoned a resource, a fuel, a hazard

Decisions cast from the Hill, to serve those from distant hills

Now they reason I block their view, I block their way

They cast the red die on my girth, the red mark of death

– – –

I’ll miss the rain most, the best time

When nature regains control

When the cloud drifts in, when it feels wild again

And dark rumblings roam and flare above

Dousing me in soaking cloud

Wild escarpment days

– – –

Motors approach. They come for me

Only a bus, it slows, they take photos, it groans away

Quiet again

– – –

Below the cloud, a piercing sunset glows my bark gold

Down the valley, the bush blanket surges

A breeze rising up the escarpment, fans me fresh

Around me branches sway, then settle, restful

Still again,

Quiet again

– – –

Soon they come

They cast the red die on my girth, the red mark of death

My death an extinction wedge

When they scatter my woodchips on their plot

Will they know I was once a Scribbly Gum – free and wild?

Their photos will torment of treasure lost

This wild country locked in myth

Motors approach

A saw starts

No!

.

 

by Editor, 23-Oct-04.


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