Sacred Ground – a poem

Sacred Ground

 

Once it’s gone

It can’t come back:

Sacred ground.

 

Desecrated,

Ripped and torn:

Lies abound.

 

Bit by bit,

Under concrete:

Dead and gone.

 

Chopped and shot,

Poisoned and mauled:

Short and long.

 

Life once plenty

Now is scarce:

Decimated.

 

Vestiges,

Clinging on:

Desecrated.

 

Sacred ground.

 

Opher – 2.3.2019

 

 

When I look back through a lifetime I can assess the damage done. Culvert by culvert, pond by pond, road by road, house by house, hedge by hedge, tree by tree – a steady litany of destruction.

Birds and animals, insects and plants are inexorably pushed out.

We live among the vestiges of what used to be.

If I were to bring forward a person from a thousand years back they would be horrified at the paucity of life they would find. What was once commonplace is now rare. The richness of nature has become a pale rear-guard hanging on by the fingernails.

We are imprisoning the sacred ground.

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