Jess of the Clearfell
Eyebrows tangled in angry frown
angry mouth, furious hair
thin body, thin clothes
pierced navel, pierced heart
squatting on denuded forest floor
powdered dust coat calloused feet
wounded eyes confront, challenge
plastic obsessions, possessions
while ancient giants
chipped and pulped
become toilet paper.
Fearless spirit of the old-growth
battling the exterminators
eradicating
the mute, the unheard
invisible ecosystems
the wallaby, the red-tail cockatoo 500 yr old karri felled
and left
homeless
a debt owed 
complacent lives provoked
opening eyes, opening minds
to a thing of beauty
once lost, gone forever.
Stump of C700 yr-old tree.
49 people stand upon it.
Wattle Block – January 1999
