The Scouring of the Land
by: Eric Fulmer

That old oak tree still stands tall in my mind,
A semblance of the years behind,
Before the world was wrapped in war,
And all was as it was before.

Back when the Voice called me to the Land,
Called me to adventure, to take a stand.
When the Land was still beautiful, and full of life,
Before the scourge of humanity put it on the knife.

They destroyed the forests, they scorched the plains,
In the name of justice, they became nature’s bane.
A quiet third-party with no part in the fight,
The Land became a casualty in the war for the “right.”

For what was the Land punished this way?
Had it committed a crime back in the day,
When all were free to enjoy its beauty?
Why was it chosen as a casualty of duty?

No longer in the Land will the children play,
As the sun sets on the horizon each day.
For now, the place where the children would roam
Is ridden with mines throughout the soft loam.

Now the children must stay indoors,
Away from the horrors that haunt the moors.
They cannot be led by the Voice to the Land,
Nor allow adventure to lead them by the hand.

For the Land is gone, no trace can be seen,
Of the beautiful places inside my dreams.
The places I remember from when I was young,
When without worry from the trees I hung.

No trace of the oak tree from my memories remains,
No trace of its branches spreading over the lanes,
Where I used to play and run and soar,
And dream of the days of forgotten lore.

I wish for a day, when perhaps it will be,
That war is gone and children are free,
To claim their birthright, the right to run,
Across the horizon at the setting of the sun.