Moonlight tumbles into drifts,

as the sand drains dendritic rivers.

Tides expand and recede,

people yearn for food,

as populations explode

and toxic is our legacy.

Can these snows,

these riparian enclaves,

fill the soil of plenty

and keep growing

without genetic altering

and poisonous cides?

Can nature return

where flora and fauna

are tainted and killed?

Will normalcy and balance

ever return healed,

our irresponsibility on trial?

Our greed,

our mephitic speeches,

from mouth to eternity,

a plague of words,

turning beautiful

into desiccation,

an erosion of peace,

of trust,

of hope,

releasing the winds of fear.

A cry so primitive,

one that only human can shriek,

making blush the killer animal

who eats only for today,

but doesn’t murder for profit,

or for food, as with ivory,

killing mothers and fathers,

forever traumatizing calves,

beating their heads against bars

for breaking bonds of sentient nurture.

This becoming,

what becoming?

Who flies the most blood;

who asks for pain?

Heaping it all

upon ourselves,

this masochistic need,

for we have forgotten

from whence we came.

They are the heroes

and we, the butchers…

Until we’re not.

Until hope returns.

Image by SignedSweet on Etsy