My first foray into the creative corner ... was just going through some old PC backup CDs and found a poem I wrote several years back. It was written about the massive clearcut logging industry in British Columbia, Canada And without further ado ... Forgive Us Mother, For We Have Sinned A repugnant scab marring the mountainside, The blighted wound striving to heal itself, With thin, young seedlings struggling to emerge From the sea of mottled, grey, rotting stumps. All that remains of yesterday's majestic forests. A forlorn cluster of trees arises from the barren milieu, Standing tall, though alone and vulnerable. Left defenceless against the winds and the elements. The few token trees left to purport to the world, "This is not a clearcut! See here, we left some standing." Hark, listen to the rumbling of the monstrous steel beasts, Laughing and leering as they roar to life, Choking and coughing through the asphyxiating fumes. Sharp, deadly teeth glinting in the bright mountain sun, Ripping into the woody flesh of the towering giants, Tossing them aside with malicious indifference. But, behold, a Saviour appears, bearing chains and drums, Natty dreadlocks and patched clothes. Locking himself to the axles of the malevolent big rig, While his disciples, working to deliver salvation to the timberlands, Stand linking arms and curtailing the progress of other trucks, Singing songs of nature, and beauty, and preservation, and appreciation, Knowing of the inevitable removal of the man under the truck And preparing for tomorrow's crusade and a new martyr Who will fight the good fight.