Monday, 21 of August of 2017

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Roman Sanchez – Buffalo Poem

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Buffalo-Field-Campaign-Yellowstone-Buffalo
 
I have stood with the buffalo.
I have felt their spirit
Move through me like the wind.
Their presence I can feel
In the contours of these mountains,
In every tree,
In every bush,
In every willow,
Every track,
In my soul.
I have looked deep into their eyes
And felt their power
Run through me like
The river from which banks they have fed off,
And I too have been nurtured.
And in my hand, I have held their hair
Plucked from the side of a tree.
bfcAnd I can see that it is no different from mine,
And I know that we are brothers.

I have seen the meaning of non-violent resistance,
In the face of hatred and ignorance,
In the face of oppression
I have been moved to tears
By the beauty of their gentle nature,
Their resilience–their determination.
And I am learning from them the meaning of patience,
Of love and of living the way they know is rightfully theirs,
Even if it means Death–
And I know I am only beginning to understand.

Roman Sanchez
Buffalo Field Campaign Volunteer
November-December 2004 Earth First!
 
 


Mark Williams – Wind

By_USucceedThey move on two legs
but they don’t move like me
I blow in
and outta
of time
and take with me
every
baby’s cry
liquid orgasmic howl
the inconsolable wail
of their mourners
the speeches
of their primp’d
and mirror-struck
leaders
the footfalls
of their ceaseless
armies

and, too, the things they can’t shake off:
the memory of a Wednesday afternoon
in September
that will never come
again

I mix these things with
pollen and bee music
the flight-deck wisdom of birds
rusted leaves
seeds and spores

I plant
I fan flames
I cool desire

in the right mood
I uproot neighborhoods
blow neon signs
on beachfront bars
and knock pricey seashore condos
back down
among the sharks

and I am left
to glide and jitter
over the ruins
of every empire
the Two Legs
thought would last
a thousand years
523644_356259924469071_1218698597_nor more

I carry the residue
of volcano
asteroid
and atom bomb

and someday, too,
the last wolf song
the one last flap of wing

and on the solar giant’s
last hot exhalation

I will breathe myself
out into space

thinning
spreading

giving final voice to every
bug buzz and bit
of bramble music

that was fed me.

MLW
January-February 2004 Earth First!


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