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They are still killing us

The elemental family

By Lane BurnsPublished 2 years ago 2 min read
They are still killing us
Photo by Photoholgic on Unsplash

My family,

Why are we still here?

How has it gotten worst from the last time?

I heard you crying for you were dying…

And I rose up in my rage.

Trying to being the new age.

But the tears have gone quiet.

As you suffer your fate.

My mother, oh might lady earth

They use to worship you,

Now they abuse you.

I no longer see you crying.

And yet you are still dying.

No long lush greenery, now dead and dry.

Once tall mighty trees, chopped down to lie.

Your flowers bloom too early, and do not produce.

They’ve pillaged and plundered

And your resources are dried and dying.

Your children racing to extinction!

My father, oh high mighty sky

I hardly see the blue of your health.

You are choked out by the smoke.

Turned orange by the approaching sun.

And filled with other toxins.

Your tears come in waves,

As storms rage through. But you must have dried up.

For though I hear you screaming and see you raging!

No water falls from above.

They’re toxins you’ve inhaled and like mother,

They no longer worship you!

Oh lovely brother, where are you?

Where are your blue streams and clear creeks.

Your waters have turned black and gray.

Or have dried up to a crisp.

The children you protect in your seas,

Get trapped in black thick liquid.

And your own contamination,

Leaves you abused.

I find it so hard to find you. No longer inland.

Your rage comes from the seas,

As you struggle to survive! No longer godlike

And I,

I apologize my family.

I promised rage and to make them fear me.

To worship me again!

But my flames have caused destruction.

And I fear I’ve aid them in killing you.

For every thing they do,

Sparks the fire inside.

And flames rage on across the land.

I’m no longer the warmth of a home or campfire.

I am the raging forest fires of earth.

A polluting or the air!

An ashen residue to the water

I have become a weapon…

The problem child they need.

Have I become the villain,

Who will burn the world for you?

For as I see it now,

You are no longer crying.

But your still dying.

nature poetry

About the Creator

Lane Burns

I am a Poet and an inspiring short story, one day novel writer.

I like to write in free verse mostly, but am heavily inspired by Emily Dickenson, and tend to create my own rules and ideas as well.

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