There is a reason birds don’t fly here anymore.
The skies are filled with fear and lamenting,
and their wings are covered in blood and ash
– bones falling from the sky.
The deer no longer nurses her fawn
in the de-forested wood, and the fish flounder
and die in dry riverbeds
The gardens are choked with a villainous vine,
while the petals of every flower fall
one by one to the rotting ground.
The mountains no longer echo with the songs of valley life,
and the oceans lie still, lifeless beneath the moon.
The dimming stars no longer ignite the imagination,
and the sunrise is muted behind a veil of smog and filth.
There is a reason our lifeless children
have abandoned hope in their futures
and restricted their “friends” to Facebook.
There is a reason our churches stand empty,
except to mourn our dead and send them on their way.
There is a reason we scream instead of sing; why
we sleep alone and lock ourselves behind bolted
doors; why we embrace our guns instead of our neighbor.
Our cities crumble beneath the weight of hatred and
indifference, while greed feeds upon the impoverished.
We have deigned to wear the robes of God and we have
failed. We turn from one another in vile contempt for we
cannot bear the reflection of ourselves in their wounded
We have consumed it all, and in the process, we
have consumed ourselves.
We are the reason.