Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Our People on the Reef

Our People on the Reef
Jane Resture

The swaying palms
the gentle surf
lapping upon the sand.
A gentle breeze
so keen to please
slowly gusts across our land.
Our island home
is all we have known
as centuries rolled by.
Our island people stood alone
on reefs so barren and dry.

But as years go by
we wonder why
the shoreline is not the same.
The things we knew
as always true
somehow do not remain.
The breakers break on higher ground
the outer palms are falling down.
The taro pits begin to die
and the village elders wonder why.

For what is happening to the beautiful isles we know?
Tuvalu, Kiribati and Tokelau
the Marshall Isles
that place of smiles
The rising sea will reclaim our ground
nothing but water will abound
our people forced to leave for higher ground.

While far away they pour their fumes into the clear blue sky
not knowing and never caring why
the world is beginning to die.
So land of our forebears despite how much we cared for you
the time will soon be when we must bid you adieu.

I came across this poem and thought it was great. Just wanted to share it. Jane Resture really knows how to put words together.

The World We Want

The world we want, one that few have seen,
At times wild and brutal, at times so serene.
A place where life abounds in every shape and size,
Where miracles seem to happen right before our eyes.

A garden paradise with "flowers" that can walk
There's even some creatures that know how to talk,
Also some animals not seen by the eye
And fabulous fishes that know how to fly.

It has its own mountains and rivers down below
Still hiding some secrets that we may never know.
For millions of years it's cared for its own
And would for millions more if it were left alone.

But man pollutes its waters and dumps his garbage there,
Spills oil on its surface and doesn't seem to care
That oceanic fisheries have collapsed in many places,
Because of overfishing and the lack of protected spaces.

So man destroys marine life all because of greed,
And treats the sea as if it were something we don't need.
If this persists those fish stories told from shore to shore
May someday be nothing more than part of our folklore.