Protection Of The Tribes

In the heart of the forest, where the ancient trees stand tall Lies a world untouched by time, where nature’s whispers call Tribal people live in harmony, with the land and sky so wide Their spirits intertwined with earth, in whom they do confide Yet shadows creep upon the land, with axes sharp and bright Logging ventures, bold and fierce, that cut through day and night They fell the sacred trees that stand, with roots so deep and strong Disrupting rhythms of the wild, where ancient songs belong The elders speak of wisdom, passed down through countless years Of rituals and traditions, now met with silent tears For the tribes they see the scars, where once the forests grew The rivers tainted, skies now grey, where once the skies were blue Machines move upon their land, in search for mineral and gold Mining companies, illegal and violent, murdering the young and old They dig into the fertile earth, with drills that roar and grind Dividing the whole forest, for sure they must be blind The elders speak of wisdom, passed down through countless years Of rituals and traditions, now met with silent fears The waters once so pure and clear, now poisoned by the waste Of chemicals and heavy metals, discarded in their haste A light shines on the horizon, a force both bright and cold Technology, with its promises, of futures bought and sold It creeps into the sacred lands, with wires and screens aglow Unsettling minds and hearts, where only peace should flow For the children gaze at glowing screens, their minds adrift in haze Forgetting songs of ancestors, lost in a digital maze Their dreams so vivid and mind so clear, now distracted by the light Forgetting their ancestral place now frightened by the night The elders speak of wisdom, passed down through countless years Of rituals and traditions, now met with blocked ears The hearts so pure and clear now open to the world We have lost our children is what the elders yell The sacred groves where spirits dwell, now echo with the hum Of trucks, dynamite, and electricity where once the drums would drum The hunters paths are overgrown, the fields no longer sown For machines and technology brings a change, a world they’ve never known The stars that guided nightly walks, now dimmed by modern lights The sounds of the forest, replaced by endless fights Children of the earth, now scattered far and wide Their homes turned into memories, their spirits forced to hide The drumbeats of their heritage now echo in the past As modern dreams of progress, on fragile hopes are cast Yet in the eyes of elders, a fire still remains A longing for the forests, and freedom from these chains For though the land is taken, their spirit never dies In every heart displaced, a piece of their homeland lies So let us hear the whispers, and honour what we and they have lost For in the tales of tribals, we learn the human cost May we strive for justice, and heal the wounds we’ve made To give back to the displaced, the peace and land for which they’ve prayed Yet in the midst of all this change, a spark of hope remains For some still hold the ancient ways, despite the modern chains They gather round the fire's glow, and tell the tales of old Of how the earth and sky and sea are worth far more than gold So let us heed the lessons, from those who know the land And find a way to balance, to lend a helping hand For humans can coexist, within nature’s gentle grace If only we remember to honour every human in every place.