Sestina: Deforestation

Lost in the green, leafy space, Resting on his back out in the country, The old hermit picks himself up and stands. He begins the morning trek in the forest Admiring the nature filled scenery— The last retreat from the world. Here peace abounds outside the world, The man tries to create his own space, Freed from the concerns of his country. The trees form a barrier, a final stand Prohibiting the city from his forest, Preventing pollution of the scenery. But bits of the outside defile the scenery. The sanctuary is attacked by the world Who slowly chokes the living space— Unaware or uncaring of the leafy country— With weapons of garbage, smog. He stands, Staring at a coke can in his forest. It stands out on the grassy forest Floor. It ruins the life-filled scenery. Almost acting as a message from the world, Telling the hermit this isn’t his space. A reminder that they own the country, And out of a whim he is allowed to stand, He is given the privilege to stand, To admire, to enjoy the nature made forest Whose beauty can be erased from the scenery, Leaving only overturned land for the world, Ready to defile the hermit's sacred space And strip the trees off the country. The old hermit cries in this country, Among the trees, the animals, he stands. Beneath the sky, above the earthy forest He prays. Since childhood this scenery Stood out. As a kid he’d leave the world, Finding a solace in this private space. But now the hermit’s leafy forest in the country, The only natural space left on the concrete world, Is threatened. Unless he stands up for the scenery.