Fractured Eden

The Earth opens her mouth,
but only smoke escapes.
No words—just the long exhale
of something dying too slowly.

She once spoke in green—
a dialect of leaf and wing,
of rivers fluent in direction.
Now, her language is static and flame.

We stitched motorways across her skin,
called it progress.
Drilled into her marrow,
called it wealth.

Even silence has texture—
ask the glaciers, ask the bees.
She is not quiet.
We are simply hard of listening.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Evangeline Avatar
May 29, 2025 at 8:10 AM
"We are simply hard of listening." Sadly true. We are too often blissfully unaware of how many of the day-to-day things we own have harmful impacts on the environment (if not through direct use, then its production & shipment). And admittedly, we probably choose not to hear because letting go of these conveniences in favour of something more sustainable is too difficult.
O'Neil Avatar
May 29, 2025 at 8:12 AM
Absolutely—thank you for your thoughtful reflection. It's true that many of our day-to-day choices carry unseen environmental costs, and recognising them can be uncomfortable. But that awareness is the first, essential step towards change. While it's not always easy to shift habits or let go of convenience, small, intentional steps can add up—especially when we support one another along the way.
Hind Avatar
May 18, 2025 at 8:41 PM
"She once spoke in green— a dialect of leaf and wing, of rivers fluent in direction." !!!!
O'Neil Avatar
May 19, 2025 at 1:46 PM
Thank you. I’m so glad that line caught your attention—there’s something magical about capturing nature’s language, and I’m happy it resonated with you.
Bayles Avatar
May 11, 2025 at 7:52 PM
"Stitched motorways across her skin-" wonderful. The last stanza is great.
O'Neil Avatar
May 13, 2025 at 7:19 AM
Thank you so much. I'm really glad you liked that line and the final stanza—it was one of my favorite parts to write. I’m grateful for your kind words and for taking the time to read it. Your feedback means a lot.
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