it was just today looking out the window of my car
that i saw the trees were dying
crumpled into paper figures, a parody of their former selves
wrenching, like crooked cursed fingers
in the direction of the ground
and i their killer.
I knew this was no simple thing,
like a barren grassless prairie in the summer’s heat
or the dry brush waiting for a spark
or the fires that consume a forest
this was more than summer’s death
that, vesuvian, will clear the path
this was change.
i tried to mourn but i could not
these brittle deathly trees
i sat a while, seeking
absolution in their shade
in the slanted sunlight peering through the leaves
but there I found, alas, only condemnation
crooked cursed fingers pointed my direction
and i their killer
This poem is about environmental destruction, and how we are all, even those of us who proclaim ourselves ‘environmentalists’ (as I do) complicit in that act. We are all killers, whether we will it or not, whether we understand it or not.
Reblogged this on fidepoetica.
Reblogged this on Underground Energy and commented:
This is good!
This is a subject I believe in , I have written many poems on this subject. Well written!