The Journey

In 1974, when I was 10, my mother, Joan Harris, wrote a poem called The Journey for me. Forty four years later I feel that it is still relevant and poignantly reflects current conservation issues:

Sparkling, splishing, splashing Over boulders and stones. A sparkling waterfall flows, As if all the time it knows It must hurry down to the sea.

Sparkling, splishing, splashing The sparkling brook hardly stops To look at the forest and wood. Oh, if only it could get quickly down to the sea. Slimy, dirty, choked and dead, Into a city the river has been fed. Why does man kill it someone tell me, This beautiful thing trying to get to the sea.

Foaming, spraying, waves a playing, at last to reach the sea. But, I wonder how long before man comes along and destroys even this, The sea. Deborah Dunnett, via email