Killing Mother
A warning
In their infancy, my children suckled softly, I held them so my bosom and they took just enough to thrive. It was different then. Oh how they’ve changed.
I had more children, who in turn, had more and so it ran.
As they increased, the love they bore me seemed diluted somehow, neglect at first and leaving their waste wherever they felt fit.
But it got so much worse.
They became jealous of the gifts I gave, when I could. They fought each other over trifles, that didn’t really matter.
But then I noticed the deceit and theft. It hurt me to the core.
The stealing wasn’t even veiled, in the end. Each younger generation loved me less and took much more, than did those that came before.
I bear the scars from where they’ve cut me. Oh yes, and more besides.
No one takes the time to talk to me, they’re too busy with their lives.
They’ll be sorry when I die.
When that day comes, they’ll all die too.
For I am Mother Earth.
(2015)
