A chase in the woods, you distracting me
And I, choosing to be distracted.
The wild hunt transformed into fertility rites,
Resurrection translated into homecoming,
And sacred objects transubstantiated into
Chocolate Easter eggs
Hidden for children, glittering
Above the unmarked tombs.
A house in the woods, minus witch.
Fresh-baked bread and fresh-faced kisses
The deeds at first innocuous:
“My child, my bed, my lover, my queen
Mine, mine, mine, mine – mine”
Gift to owner, ownership to mineral rights
Finally the mining rights sold
To convention; corporate interests intervene.
Burial ground nothing but bones.
Here then am I, chained to my tree,
Facing the bulldozers, wild again
Shaking my fist; raising my wand
Planting my shamanistic curse
While you drive over this sacred ground
Laying out your careful markers
As you consult your lawyers.
I watch new growth in old forest fall under acid rain;
The tears of your paradise.
~ Maelynn; April 6, 2011