Tall Trees Poem by Kris Whelan (1971)

The river road is clear they said, except for all the fog
Two men are driving being treated less than dogs
Can’t see what lays before them, they think they’ve left the road
They stop to see what’s happened; all of hell unfolds
What they thought were holes, were black bodies on the ground
A slaughter of the innocents; death was all around
Hacked to bits and pieces as far as they can see
The message was resounding, “start chopping the tall trees”
Brother killing brother but the world just turned away
Two men left standing on this river hell highway
The stench of death is in the air; “road kill” everywhere
And still the world just looked away; didn’t even care
They had to turn around, over bodies they must drive
Insanity had descended I suppose they’re glad to be alive
The radio gave the calling, pretending to be free
The message was resounding, “start chopping the tall trees”
Parts of little children left lying in the wake
All along the river road but someone’s on the make
Belgium turns its back on the slaughter in its name
Too late for Rwanda and the world deserves its shame
There was no unity of nations when the trees came falling down
The politics of money, white or black or brown
Bodies filled the roadways as they tried to flee
And the message was resounding, “start chopping the tall trees”
But it’s only Africa, the cradle of our race
We look the other way, the world sees no disgrace
Bodies rotting everywhere as far as you can see
The message was resounding, “start chopping the tall trees”.