From across sleepy mountains
Rolls the violet gray cotton candy rain,
Touching tongues parched and provoked,
Scorched by these modern times -
Times meant for more luminous dreams
And rainbows.

The wind tells of it,
In a huff and a howl,
Stuffing the agitation clear into my ears,
From the outside – in,
In a screaming tone
I won’t soon forget.

The land tells of it
In violent, wracking railings
That rock every foundation,
Indiscriminately crushing the guilty
And innocent alike,
By weights far too hefty for small backs
And large egos
To bear.

The seas tell of it,
Spitting out the living
Like a bad taste
Caused by arrogant creatures
Who don’t even live there,
But contaminate at will.

The river tells of it
In the roiling silence
Of a voice choked by dams
And too many lifeless fish.

My hair shudders to tangles,
Unsmoothing laughlines,
Hiding anguish,
Concealing fears,
Erasing my face -
Decisions made in love instead,
Perchance too late for pardon.

02/03/2010

Author's Note: Sometimes the state of our earth...it crushes.

Posted on 02/03/2010
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie