The canary died last spring,
but we didn’t heed the warning.
And without enough light and air
we morphed into monstrous things.
Devouring each other’s souls.

Some windows open
some windows shut
some windows slanting
some in the sunlight
some in the shade
standing out
against a white wall
A poem in a minute

Clay *** formed from earth,
The very thing that we are made
Of.

The sea is begging for mercy,
the moon echoes its pain at night,
each sunset - a mantra to mother earth,
“You can do this, you’ll survive.
The soil, the trees, the ocean to the highest peaks,
an army against the thieves,
who took this land and made it bleed.”

The verses write themselves
Words of life
The writer
Possessed