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Poet's Cry for Mike Tidewell (Barry Sons - Berwick, LA)

I heard the Politician say in a hunter’s whisper, 
“There’s a poet in the marsh,
I heard one today. He was crying
about the marshland’s accelerated decay.” 

“Mr. Politician, can you help us anyway?
I refuse to think our marsh is so quickly
Going away. If we can scan the galaxy
And bring men back from the dead,
Why can’t we save our marsh? I can’t
Get that around my head.” 

There’s a poet in the marsh,
I heard one today. Whining and crying;
Who needs them anyway?” 
“Mr. Politician, I’m here to make you feel.
Try to wrap your heart around the things that
Are real. Like love and friendship passion and
Sorrow; the love of earth and concern for tomorrow.” 

“There’s a poet in the marsh,
I heard one today."
 Mr. Politician, I cry for America’s wetlands,
not just mine but coast to coast. The encroaching sea is turning
cypress into ghost. Their corpses line the waterways, next it’s
willow, then the oaks. The things we’ve done are destroying our
Louisiana coast. Communities in the bayous are washing out to sea. The canals cut like open
wounds, tell me can’t you see, how important Mississippi silt is to you and me?
Without her Loess all is lost” 

There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. Should we shoot him?”  


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