Mother Nature's Dance

“I am dying”,

the Earth whispers to me.

Grass is mistreated

and flowers defeated.

Birds never tweeted

yet humans competed.

We were all becoming

concreted.

 

Green, dewy sprinkles.

Can you smell

that crispy air?

Or feel that breeze 

tangle thru your hair?

Nature feeds my soul

but what do you care?

Up high, so high

the stars sing in twinkles 

untouched and un-scared. 

 

Clouds deep and gray

Drop their mourning

and splatter their pain.

“Good mourning to all”

she whispers to me,

“I’m withered and small”.

 

Rain soaks the earth

and floods concrete jungles.

Is there no hope, 

to hold onto growth

before it slips away?

Try to comprehend its worth.

Never mind- you can’t even cope 

with the idea of no earth

so you just believe nope.

 

Has this world lost its sanity?

For I fear all humanity

has left us to flee.

Must I remind that our planet

though strong, still can it

not face the battle alone.

When given all that she 

is, we return with

blood on our hands, be

hearts tinted granite

souls of manic.

 

 

Don’t you see 

how we are murdering

Crushing, beating

our home into something

robbed of life, replaced with hate? 

Earth has taken this state

where we treat it as waste 

Don’t you see 

we are horrifying disgrace.

 

But the trees reassure me

and promise to end our crime.

Strong standing warriors,

with forests of armor 

sharpened with time.

 

Lowering their droopy branches 

for me to see

They stretch out their palms

and sway with glee

to the rhythm of love.

And the sounds up above

I promise were holy and free.

 

I take their hand

drizzled in wet fears

and begin to dance.

We twirl to the hum 

of earth’s musical enhance.

Thunder, cheers and lightening storms

echo in our fairyland. 

We have one last chance

to breathe life into earth

and twist her fate with our hands.

 

Leaves tickle the stars 

with dew drops.

And from afar I can hear

mother nature’s giggle.

Her smile lights the sky

in rays of golden, wiggle

past the dark to soak

in all her cries.

The world feels alive

again and blissfully awoke.

To think that all she deprived

was a kiss of sunshine. 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741