Words by Piper Blake
What shall I do with all this heartache?
It beats a panicked awkward rhythm as it trips forth from my chest
Strangling, then spilling free in keening cries of loss
I stand alone
They’ve turned their back, eyes closed, ears shut
To the broken tears of a dying land
Of drought, fire, flood, heat, storm, wind, ice, waves
Of terrors still to come,
Of death and darkness omnipotent,
Of hopeless days,
Of lonely nights.
Try and hide as others do under heavy blankets
Close your eyes, shut out the news, and take a shot at silence
But this grief is a stubborn beast,
It sticks like burs in matted fur
And no amount of hacking, teasing, coaxing, pleading
Can make it go away.
“Won’t somebody help?!”
I am my only echo.
Some days I feel that I could drown
In tears of grieving for this land,
The beauty, power, life and grace of Mother Nature
No, not lost. Murdered.
Lifeblood dripping free
Like sand collecting in the hourglass
A whispered threat