I am the Unborn Child

 

I am the unborn child

Who refuses to see the light

Of days drenched in black clouds

My hearth breathes in

Falling and falling

Over rambles of hungry men

Who heartlessly take my share

To simply be

To be renewed by the vines

Untouched by fumes

That carry me in a solemn path of woe

Seeing my seas overflowing with red

My bed desolate and no longer evergreen

A vortex of ages to come

My fellow unborn like me

The victims of my fathers' deeds

Alone in this no longer fruitful abyss

Where life still flows through me

But a glimpse is shattered and beaten

Giving only an image of suffocation and darkness

An external death

With its axe in hand

Reaching

Reaching

­­­­­­­­­­­­

But do not test

The strength of working hands

That binds the many of me

I have not gone yet

As winging birds fly

And mountains shiver in their Arctic blankets

As the great serpent devours its glory

And the petal dances through shouting woods

So shall I await a promise

Due to time

Due to deprived history

Of desecrated creation

Organic granules

In its slow bloom

I will wait till the world remembers

Me

This poem is about: 
Our world
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