The Fight Back

Where are the showers? 

That should be greening the fields? 

The rains should be here

A good month since. 

Where is the morning dew? 

We should be

turning the soft loamy earth,

planting seeds,

tending the offshoots,

looking forward to the harvest already.

Instead, we are trapped

in this rainlessness,

this heat, and 

lifeless brown. 

  

Where is the new grass?

that should be returning the cows, to health and freshness?

Where is the new saplings,

That is the delight of the sheep and the goats?

It is not lateness when the fields are brown in June.

It is not lateness, when the stream is dry in August 

It is the fightback, the revolt of an ailing Earth. 

The rainmaker is sick; exhausted 

from our plunder,

our exploitation,

our gnawing,

burning,

breaking, 

pumping,

dumping…

From all of our greed.

All of our poison! 

Droughts where once were floods

Floods where once were deserts

And everywhere, are

Dead trees,

Dead rivers,

Dead elephants,

Dead donkeys,

Dead butterflies

and soon, dead men.

A just retribution. 

 

 Man!

Come to your senses,

Stem the abuse, 

Curb your appetite, 

or face your end!