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Date Posted: 12:17:31 08/22/01 Wed
Author: WindWalker
Subject: BALANCED IN HARMONY

BALANCED IN HARMONY


Thumbs in suspenders, smug, log-hard face,
the old logger stands, and from the edge of his time
surveys a clearing of bleeding stumps: his handiwork,
Up and down, torn patches of earth's sagging face
from years of reckless cutting and no re-planting
leave him unmoved, his attitude unchanged.
With the fixed eye of the rapist, he measures the worth
of one remaining tree at the far edge of the clearing--
a fleeting life, struggling alone, needles falling silently
as tears from an orphan in the path of someone else's war...

As he hefts his chainsaw to take this last life,
he too suddenly falls dead in the killing fields,
of a heart tired of blood, of killing, of death.

In the evening's freshening breeze among the wreckage,
the logger's son falls to his knees, silently weeping,
his tears, long held, are lost in this broken land:
are they for the father lying dead at the morgue--
or for the many other lives so greedily destroyed?

In the shadowy darkness of that haunted place
he hears his grandfather's unheeded advice:
"Never take any life for foolish pleasure or raw greed,
son.
Take but what you need with constant gratitude
for such is understood and always permitted
and in exchange learn to give of yourself also.
Find a way to exchange your love for that which you take
and life, for you, will remain balanced in harmony."

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