Hiding Wilderness

Amazon Rain Forest (photo by Brazilian things)

One acre of the woods I never set foot in,

holding the wilderness so sacred I surmised

that curiosity would remove its magic—

that wildness once seen is wild no more forever.

You nod. “Yes, animals need the space.” But no, it

was for wild, for wildness itself, not for animals

that I preserved it.  Oh, certainly animals

could use it and love it— but not the human ones.

Look at the wearing down of public places, and

consider whether we must see them to believe?

You say "If no one sees trees stand tall in forests,

the trees do not exist."  I say the opposite:

Wilderness exists when it’s unseen—undisturbed—

I dare only peek. Once shared and tale told,

then more look, and slowly wilderness seeps away,

wildness slowly leaves and takes its secrets with it.

"What good is it?" you laugh, "If we can't use it?"

We know it's there, that's enough. Like money in the bank.

Like heaven, or like God.  Perhaps like our souls,

belief matters.  Allow wilderness to exist.

You pause, but then assert, "It shouldn't matter, then,

whether it is real or not.  Belief is enough."  

Ah, what will convince you?  Wilderness will not be

imitated or reproduced.  Hold it sacred.

For Sumana's Prompt at Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Wilderness

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
Please respect my copyright. 

© 2018 Susan L. Chast