Letter To a Movement

This sudden surge of old death This expiration of forest trees And my lung choking for breath This sickness of an old disease This tropical rain forest gasping With the world for life, and chains Of food stores lit up and basking In cheap food fattening, the stains Of beckoning jingles but few ignore For they do not know how many Die to bring obesity to a greasy store And you think the real calamity Is the forest, you should me here Prowling at the shrivelling edges Of my domain shrinking up with fear I growl, short from high rock ledges Where is a cat to go without a jungle? So now you they are only after me Trying to make extinct not invisible Will cheap fat dribble on your gluttony. Where are the Yanamoahs gone There are no foot tracks where the eagles spawn.