Young voices speak “For the Wild”

For the Wild

By Emily Miles (Year 5)

Turquoise waves lapping the shore,
Bubbly coral, strands of kelp,
Dotting the pebbled sea floor,
Sunlight cracking through the crystal surface,
Marking a new day, a new dawn;
Then the otters, turtles, dolphins, whales
Swim through the calmness,
No threats, no dangers,
No animals to mourn

But then they came in.

The crack of ice,
The salt, the breeze, the waves,
they rise
Plastic daggers, plastic knives,
the blood they draw:
the blood of otters, turtles, dolphins
Innocent lives

The breeze whispers through the canopy of green,
The ground a carpet of fallen leaves,
Roots like snakes from the tallest trees;
From a fern, barely a rustle,
Then the woodpecker soars, wings spread,
Glistening plumage glossy brown and red
Then the small talons perch on the ancient oak tree,
The softest bark, the feathery leaves,
This tree is a home,
This home is a tree

But then they came in.

Swish of an axe,
Snap of twigs,
A broken oak
that’ll never heal back
It’s trunk splits open, a groaning cry
The voice of a dead spirit haunting minds
The tree was a house, a home
It’s dwellers sprawling, injured, wounded
on the ground to roam

But,
though hope starts to die,
nature tries and tries
to heal, to regrow,
for our land
for the wild

The rough bark lining the floor,
The tall trees painted with misty green,
The kookaburra sings, a joyful call,
The koalas, bundles of soft grey fur,
Sink closer to the tree trunk,
The lorikeet,
Feathers from sapphire blue to forest green,
Chirps loudly with its bright coloured beak,
When night falls, a carpet of stars,
From the hollow, the gliders soar,
Right through the mist in the tranquil night

Nature tears itself apart, too.

Smoke,
choking the sky,
Roaring flames,
sweeping across the land
Fire coating the bark of trees,
from the dried curl of their leaves
Down to the crackly burnt grass,
A piercing shriek slicing the air,
Kookaburras, koalas, gliders, lorikeets
Retreat to the ground

Then another fiery flare

Lakes of peace, rivers of calm,
From the mountain peaks,
To the caverns of dark,
Nature nourishes them, gives them,
Their innocent lives,
Ecosystems don’t starve,
But thrive,
Nature does it,
For us
But, truly,
For the wild

Then we twisted all of it.

Silver poles slashing the sky,
Long wires trembling when the myna stops by,
Skyscrapers ripping through the clouds,
Trucks roaring through the streets,
Metal ships, dagger blades whirling,
Cutting through the sea it is churning,
The air that was once fresh and clear,
Now is choked,
Woven with fear,
Ships, factories, mines,
Cities of a thousand blinking lights,
Cover the land,
Where nature used to stand,
Only hints of green amongst the black

But,
though hope starts to die,
nature tries and tries
to heal, to regrow,
for our land
for the wild

Look in the present then back onto the past,
What we did to our own world;
How long will it last?
Nature created us, gave us life,
Now we’re wrecking it,
Killing it,
With the sharpest knife,
The wild’s flame of hope,
It could die out,
Until only the ashes and embers remain

But,
after all we did,
nature still tries to regrow,
It tried so hard,
for the land we scarred
For me,
For you,
For us,
For the wild

Hidden Wild

By Evie Southcolt (Year 5)

A hidden forest in a playground,
tendrils twisting, flowers blooming,
A rich landscape of green,
The city is not what it seems.

An abandoned cottage,
vines spiraling towards the ceiling,
A bird’s nest in a broken chimney,
long unused.
Nature is waiting, just light the fuse.

A flower blooming on the windowsill,
a gorilla watches the city through its painted eyes,
Lavender, jasmine, smells so sweet,
Petals shimmer in the summer heat.

But in the city, skyscrapers loom, blocking the sun,
Obstructing, constructing, it’s disgusting,
What we do to our world.
We choke her, we smother her,
we're destroying our Mother Earth,
and still, she lives.

War and warming and fossil fuels and the things we use,
are all made of plastic, the toys, it’s quite drastic,
and still, she lives.

Dig down, down to the bottom of your mines,
where their cries no longer reach you,
and their protests cannot breach your
fortress of instability,
And watch the world waste away.

But our wild is calling,
a call left unhindered for too long.
Leave the mines, fill in the holes,
pull yourself up and out of the past.
We cowered, blind, like moles and voles.
Now, our wild is calling,
And now, we’ll heed the call.

A tree on the pavement, branches stretch towards the sky,
Leaves rustle in the cool breeze.
One small action, one new growth,
to her this is our vital oath,
the city, green again.

Cracks in the pavement growing plants,
fronds unfurling in the warm light,
a small sanctuary in the city’s might,
a greenhouse leading a gentle fight,
the city, green again.

A humble garden in a city home,
Beautiful flowers sitting on thrones,
Window boxes on apartments roam,
This is our wild, our mother, our protector,
crying out loud for us to protect her,
She sings us the song of our hearts every day,
So we can come together and say,

“For the wild, our hearts sing along,
For the wild, she’s waited so long.
For the wild, every day’s a new day,
For the wild, wild we’ll stay.”