Our Mother

In loving memory of Mother Earth --

it lies in ashes beneath the Sun’s hearth.

The negligent dwellers are all gone:

No one left behind to mourn,

once our mother was lush green

sky so blue and oceans gleaming.

First, the trees were all cut off;

then the air filled with constant fog,

and waves rose to cover all land with a frown

and the polar ice caps melted and slid down

the inhabitants looked to the womb,

but all that lay there was their tomb;

in desperation they looked up to the sky --

rockets or wings, they could not fly.

Our dear Mother wept for her children --

rain clouds poured for no less days than eleven.

Now that all the water is gone,

evaporated away with no ozone,

the stark land remains parched and bare

and life in any form is hopeless, no one left to care.