Death of a lake

A lake, landmark to locate easily my nest like home, a center to ever widening concentric city, lies without life, no fishes, no ducks, no mosquitoes, not even microbes exist within. Like a frozen body intact, lake is kept as a keep-sake, for there will be no other places to dump such waste; chemicals flowing from a few hundred factories, slush, sewage, garbage reaches her in hushed silence. When people flock to see with curious eyes the fire and froth issuing from the lake, taking pictures, striking unison notes-aw’s, wow’s, as if it is all of the lake’s doing, my ears hurt-ache-burn. I see a crow sitting on electric pole cocking its head, looking restlessly at people or mourning the death of lake, I can’t say, but, with as expressionless face as that of the crow I turn with heavy steps, ruffled, helpless, towards my home.