Do you remember when we were kids,
And the piles on the tiles by the shopfronts weren’t leaves,
With people discarding cigarette butts in the street.
We’ve come so far, at least,
But still I wonder what can be done.
It’s all downhill, when you’re battling the sun
That seeps in through a veil of unbecoming oil-slick waste
In the atmosphere.
I fear that we don’t know how to stop,
That we’re delaying inevitable entropy
By trying to save the life of one tree,
When a forest overseas is going to be
The paper I used to write this, in about five minutes.
There’s no way to win it,
We’re killing the planet while we’re still in it,
We can’t stop.
We can mouth words that sound real,
But we can’t appeal to the masses.
Self-indulgence is the weapon of choice,
And we can’t hear the earth for lack of a voice.
The food we shovel is getting us in trouble,
From land that’s dying to a plate for frying,
I can hear my heart crying.
I’m standing in the centre of a body that’s lying to me.
We’ve forgotten what it feels like to really feel healthy.
And this is the tail end of a life spent
Ignoring advice from well-meaning parents,
Who just sound condescending and frustrated and mean
When telling you stop reading, go and be lean.
Well I’m trying.
It’s hard to fix this mixed up situation,
We’ve got an infatuation with blaming
People of a higher station,
But the nation needs to get down off its pedestal,
See that this is real,
Your next meal could be stealing the years
We have left.
We’ve seen the work we can do at our best.
This city is littered with leaves
Rather than the cause of cancers in our chest.
It’s a mess, that we can clean up.
We don’t need that trash,
Let’s give it up.
Danielle K Day