From The Rainforest Poem by Charles Eastland

FROM THE RAIN FOREST

As I lay transfixed in the magnetic zone
of the digital trashray and Morpheus
I am jarred like an elbow in the ribs
from a Sunday stupor
by a riveting barrage of ice cold logic
from the scowling mouth
of a primitive chieftain, naked in body and soul

With a final ultimatum he gores
the filming eyes of a devouring camera
crew of civilization, atomic and cancerous

The shimmering nature's crown of floral
and plumed headdress accents
each thrust of his tightfisted lance
that stresses the points of omega wisdom
of all ages, past, present and future

He is not arrogant, or noble,
demands no allegiance to party or denomination
God is the forest, the sky, the earth
the man and the woman, and all living things.
This, is his religion and his government.

This brown man speaks no English
but he translates well
and is just rooted as the mangrove, as history
and he is prepared by, and armed with his naked life
'We don't want money. Money will disappear. The earth,
the forest, the animals....this is us. You take them, you take
our skin (the forest) ...and we will all die.'

Nothing this side of death could remove him,
relinquish his stand.
He lives in poetry.
He is perfectly centered.
I will vote for him.

Charles Eastland