‘The Spill’ by Felicia Marie Dounis
We have to see the spill, they say,
It’s not too far from here.
I gaze around at fertile ground,
Thick forest far and near.
What is the spill?, I ask aloud,
Anticipating the answer;
A broken dam, toxic land,
This forest has a cancer.
Hesitation steals my breath,
Do I want to see this?
A tainted space of chemical waste,
Our forest’s dead abyss.
I don’t refuse the invitation,
Instead, I choose to see,
The devastating consequence,
Of reckless CSG.
We travel through the canopy,
Ancestors, ancient and tall.
This sacred land at the hand of man,
Would surely see their fall.
A moment of silence is required,
For the site that lay before us;
No ancestors here…
Though spirits linger in the forest.
Their sadness splits and sears my soul,
There are no words to be said.
I scour the Earth for hints of life,
This is a graveyard…
Everything is dead.
And then fallen ones appear,
Rotten roots laid bare.
I surrender to my tears, and fear,
That Santos is still there.
This is what we’re standing for:
Protection from this plight.
The damage here, so very clear,
This forest is our fight.
We will make our voices heard,
We’ll lock the gates and barricade.
Arm-in-arm, we’ll do no harm,
And we will protest, unafraid.
I have no children of my own,
But when I do, they’ll know,
That the land on which they stand,
Was won from evil foe.
They’ll hear that warriors for water,
United for their sons and daughters.
Men and women of iron wills,
Did not relent because fracking kills.
And then I’ll bring them to this place,
They’ll feel the magic of this space.
And they will know we stopped the drills,
And guaranteed the end of spills.