Drought
By Jean Eureka
The prairie became desert, it was the decisions, the ones that are made, the ones that are forgotten, it was the wars, the pain and the greed. Of green cloaks, now marked cracks. The meadow became deserted, it was the indecisions, the ones that are released, the memories, it was the half peace, the false joy, the feigned detachment. Of blue cloaks, deep cracks. The lush meadow became desert, the sky no longer watered the cloaks, fearful of hypocrisy.
And despite everything, I can still see the light through the cracks.
Betrayal irreversible, death irreversible. Your impact, my impact, our impact … let’s not look to blame if there is no time for solutions.
Does it matter? Did it matter?
Earth resists, humanity … awake!
The prairie became desert … arid, hot, and inhospitable.
And we are still here.
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