SawMill in Lofa

© Musue N. Haddad

I know, I know, I remembered
At first, it was the beautiful trees
Large blanket of peaceful shades

Trees roots sat happily into the earth
Birds sat cozily on tree tops
Beautiful harmony at that time

Children danced in the fields
We climbed happily on trees stump
Hung, swung on the branches

Then sounds of machine came
It was foreign sounds on our streets
And then our neighborhoods and streets

We saw large machines plied our streets
Then track of oily black substance; slimy
The deafening sounds of machine

In the midst of soft local songs,
And the soothing sounds of nature
Our voices faded, then plunged

Then it drowned drumbeats of our tongues
Tis was the large humming of machines
Day and night, and everyday

Big, rough tires, sharp blades on our roads
Tearing at trees, and our soft earth
Blades shot crudely into the trees

Birds flew, squirrels, animals scurried
Large, healthy, and bulky trees
Brutally slain; all beaten without care

Trees roots burst from the earth
The forest wailed, and it was all silent
They lay helpless on battered earth

Worn out by the sun and the rain
Hacked trees taken on trailers
Out of Lofa, and then overseas

And our earth wrestled
With the dark oily substance
That sagged deeply into its veins

And the ground cracks open in awe
More and more trees, all fall in disdain
Our beautiful shades, stout branches all gone

No shades, no tree branches to wave
Shrunken, cracked soil, polluted rivers
Machines, engines, grating noise prevail

Taken over nature’s voice and our songs
At first, it was harmony and beauty
That’s what it was, I remembered
But now, it’s withered and wrinkled


Copyright © Musue N. Haddad