--

what happens when all the
people walk away
and let the snow fall
and let the flowers bloom
the sun free to march with no
forced drummer announcing
sunset and sunrise
no alarms ringing to get the
world up
no cars starting and running
to warm their engines,
-- what happens?

Do the birds sound different?
picking fresh notes and melodies,
does the passage of life move
at a different pace?
can the forest really speak if
it gets quiet enough to hear it?
who are the coyotes talking to
anyway?
And the deer, the bighorn sheep,
the mountain lion --
Does everything lose its name
when the people walk away?

When silence returns to the valley
even the rocks
breath a sigh of relief.
And what about native peoples?
The forests' companion for thousands
of years -- virtually extinct in America
driven away by the law and order
of the white man, starved by the
convenience and capitolism of the rich,
does the wilderness feel this loss?
No more big gatherings, pow wows,
pot-latches, trading festivals,
no more sacred pipes and sweat lodges,
Just cars and permanent buildings,
roads and signed trails, just exhaust,
brakes, trash and "campers".

No longer living here we prefer
to "camp", "vacation", "escape".
-- What happens?
-- What happens when the people
walk away and you realize you
got left behind -- the forest is closing
in -- and you no longer understand
your own voice, past,
or future?
What happens when the voice of
reason sounds like revolution or
radicalism?
Have I gotten lost, or have the rest
made the wrong turn?
When will the people come back?
Not to "camp", or "vacation" or "escape",
but to live.
Will there be anything to come back to?