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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I have come to accept the possibility that I, myself, may be partially to blame (my compost pile of shame) that I may have stroked the very wheel (unable to feel) that, set in motion, is the cause of so much pain (unsheltered in the rain) Silently suffering through endless winters (embers, cinders) without anticipation of Spring (hope an ethereal thing) blind to Mother Earth's gifts (tenuous unfelt shifts) the colors, the scents of her blossoms (habitually playing possum) deaf to the melodies of the birds (knowledge lost, language unheard) as they sing She calls to me but my barriers are thick (mentally stunted, physically sick) densely scarred and wounded (as I am, to the quick) As the sludge chokes the seabirds (screaming their lost words) and the fishes (murdering Piscean wishes) as Her forests are cleared by those both greedy and vicious I feel Mother Earth tremble (demons assemble) beneath my feet hear Her sigh as I place a hesitant finger (shaking, letting it linger) on Her weakened pulse thready and irregular We are killing Her, Mother Earth, mother of us all, matricide (no longer can we hide) listen, listen to Her heartbeat... I may have stroked the very wheel...
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