The Plea

“For trespassing,” said the officer,
“I am hereby arresting you,
For obstructing the legal activities
Of this logging crew.

It’s all very well to call it
Civil disobedience,
But violating private property
Is a serious offence.”

 

“Wait,” I said to the policeman,
“Before you take me away,
Give me a single minute
And hear what I have to say.”

The bulldozer roared behind us,
A terrifying sound
And the earth beneath us shuddered
As a giant crashed to the ground;

A mire of mud mixed freely
With the diesoline and oil,
And the stench of death was reeking
Out of newly ripped up soil.

Ferns lay crushed beneath the mud,
A chainsaw screamed away,
Smashed trees upon the ruined earth
In all directions lay

And all around a landscape
Ravaged and defiled,
Trashed, you’d think, by a marauding pack
Of vandals running wild.

“Let’s have it,” said the officer,
“It’s time we heard your plea…”
As I looked him in the eye and said:
“And you’re arresting me?”