|photo via unsplash|
Mother Nature Gets a Few Things Off Her Chest
The human race
is a disaster.
They use their big brains
to foam with wrath
about fake news and propaganda and change.
They ignore me when they aren't
I am the truth.
I will remain
when the last earthquake
or the last drought
the last human
from this planet.
They are helpless.
I do not practice conservation.
They will pay attention and live in harmony with me
or they will be erased from the equation of life.
They seem to have made their choice.
May the end come quickly.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017
This is a poem for Laura Shovan's Annual February Writing Project. The words/phrases for this poem
Phew! This is dark! And probably also true! Such an important message!ReplyDelete
"I do not practice conservation." Yes. This is true. We like to think that we are so special, that the no one can survive without us. Yet, it might be quite the opposite.ReplyDelete
I've been struggling with my poetic voice these days. My usual focus on the beauty of small things seems trivial. I know it's not; in fact, it may be that poetry is the only way to access that beauty anymore, but it still seems trivial.
Thank you for writing.