The Silent Call

May 8, 2009
By Anonymous

It’s quiet,
It’s dim,
There are a thousand,
Bugs and plants,
And a marked absence of,
Noise, pavement, and bright light.
Suddenly, I sense that I,
Am being watched,
By thousands of eyes,
Whose owners are not alarmed,
Or even surprised.
And for now,
Content only to observe.
A quicksilver shadow catches my eyes,
Overhead, I see,
The biggest cat ever to be,
Black as the night,
But proud as a king,
For this is what he is, you see.
On another tree,
Parrots scold,
Large snakes slid over the ground,
Other things gather around.
Suddenly, I am aware,
Of the humidity in the air,
The strangeness of the trees and ferns,
And, also,
Of a silent sound;
It fills your senses,
And I notice,
A quiet plea I can’t quite hear.
“So little time,” it whispers,
“So little time is left,
Soon the Man-things
Will destroy our nests, our ponds, our trees,
Our home!
Can you, will you, tell us please?
Why does Man so want these things?
Why can he not be content with what he has?
Why must he have only greed?
And no kindness for those who plead?
For him to please,
Just leave us in peace?
To that question I have no answer,
But still I feel the need to help them.
“Where am I?”
I call,
“I cannot help if I cannot get to others,
But I will try to help in any way I can.”
To this, they respond:
“Our home, our habitat,
Our very world:
You are in
The Rainforest.”

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