Poem and painting by Geoff Wilmshurst
Dark images
Black memories
The haunting sounds of rushing water
Echoing in dark chasms
Recalling the past
The sun dappled through the leaves
Throwing patterns across moss covered rocks
The sounds of the forest alive
lush - cool - life Intermingled with falling water
Quiet - dark ethereal worlds
The place of fairytales
Fireflies illuminating the rocks and trees at night
Confirming the mysteries in time
the tranquility has been shattered
The hand of man intrudes
The dragon awakes
Sounds and smells not natural
Stygian horrors awoken
Sounds and smells of distillate and oil
Pristine air now fouled with lust and terror
Yellow monsters amongst the lush green
Ripping out the life-force of the natural world
The bush cannot cry out
The only sounds harsh
High pitched motors of destruction
The crashing of limbs
the low thud of death on the ferns
As giants fall
Fragility and colour now decimated
Red - orange- then black
The colour of death overwhelms
The guardians of the forest are now lost
Unable to resist the irresistible
Delicate ferns and mighty trees vaporised
The giants have fallen - unable to fight the terror
Around them the soft forest decimated
What is not plowed under is burnt
Death on many levels
The onslaught is relentless and thorough
Ash layers smothering and mounding on the ground
The heat unbearable - unstoppable
Animals terrified, escaping down to the deep dark caves
Those too slow - gone in a flash of pain
Those left - remain shattered
Wandering in distressed silence
wandering the ruins of their former life
Around them only destruction
Ancient trees born in cool mountain valleys
Now gone
leaving only memories
black - dead- hollow hulks
Where once majestic trunks reached to the sky
Alongside cool, clear water
Now only stumps of charcoal and mounds of ash
The ground ripped apart
Shattered corpses left laying silent
on the banks of dirty, cluttered streams
Or amongst gaping wounds of soil
But life is resilient
It only requires time
But not the time recorded on machines
Clock time is transitory
Rather,
Real time as recorded in ages
not the days and years of man
Ages that will outlast man and his machines
The forests will return
The lush valleys will regrow
The animals will bring back the sounds of life
The giants however, will take longer if at all
The desecrated lands dead and dying now
The grieving voices of the elders heard
Sounds in the mists across dead land
Ghostly wailing in the valleys and across mountain tops
But slowly the bush will regenerate
The green will replace the grey
Life will return to the mountains
To the now quiet - grieving valleys and bare rocky hills
The vibrant sounds of nature and life
Will be heard again
Man is a short term species and nature will return
After the mines and clear fell
Cycles of time moving slowly will come back
Nature will return
Reclaiming its own
Renewing the past
The death of the giants mourned
But new life resilient to take their place
Dr Geoff Wilmshurst spent 40 years as a professional teacher in disability education. He now spends his time travelling , writing and painting, and enjoying life with his wife Lorraine. He lives in the Blue Mountains in NSW, and finds inspiration for his work in its environment and that of similar places such as Tasmania and New Zealand. He hopes through art and poetry to connect with others, to make a positive difference in their lives, and to share the experience of what it means to be human and part of the natural world.
