Just read a local news article about the wanton killing of those innocent and intrepid travelers, the snow geese.
Why so many deaf,
so many dead ones walking,
unfeeling, spilling gasoline,
howling like dogs,
breaking their
wheeled toys,
spreading bloody destruction?
Why aren't they
true men,
walking with open
eyes, ears,
listening to the
wind, the trees,
knowing the sky,
the life
beyond macadam?
Why trash
Irreplaceable?
Are they not inheritors
of the Great Prize--
this New World?
They should walk
softly, marveling,
these younger brothers,
as did those from whom
their ancestors
stole the land--
The People.
So true. My only escape from the dead ones spilling gasoline was to hike/backpack into the wilderness for a day or a week. If you go deep enough, you leave them and their droppings behind. Then, like The People, one may merge with the trees, the wind, the sky at night at three in the morning. Powerful poem. Thank you for this message that warns of future destruction. Once we lose touch with nature, we are lost.
Juliet,
I love the (controlled) rage you express, condemnation of selfishness and insensitivity and an eloquent appeal for higher awareness. With you all the way!
John
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
My book of poetry is being redone by me, I have a beautiful cover designed and the book will have a few more than 200 poems in it. I am going to have it printed on demand here in Canada. When it is done I will let you know when it is done and if anyo
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Be always safe,
Karen
I love the (controlled) rage you express, condemnation of selfishness and insensitivity and an eloquent appeal for higher awareness. With you all the way!
John
Regis
Fee
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.