I know how to recognize a desperate soul
    Wood for our fire
      To keep our family warm
        In winters cold
          What is the sacrifice
            Dear tree
              You captured the sun
                Drinking the rain
                  Roots deeply in soil
                    Mother earth
                     Ashes to dust
                        Cinders to rust
                           Reaching for heaven
                             Only to become
                               The god of fire

It’s a Spring Tide drowning me
It’s a Full Moon, the sun and gravity
Pulling on the water of the ocean
I’ve been cast out in
Through denying my truth.
I cannot know if the flooding
Covering all of me
Will be as predictable as such a tide
Twice each Lunar month
No season negates the pull.
The rise and fall of the oceans levels
Feel more visible in me
Than any sea on earth.        

© Sia Jane

This road is sanctified
has eternal consequences.

Do not pick too many flowers
the vase has a beauty all its own.

The hands that laboured
to fashion it into shape.

The mind that imagined
such a decorative piece.

The Earth Mother who provides materials
and the sweat on the Artisans brow.

An allegory --man is the worst animal …
he begins to know what it is to be human only at his last moment but,  sadly, it's late, too late
               APOCALYPSE

It's too late
the volcano is swallowing up
what's in its way
the storms are raging maniacally through the night
tearing down the mightiest trees and bringing ubiquitous destruction
to homes and buildings
the sea rises to destructive heights
eager to grasp the clouds on high
even the rulers of the jungle
the lions, tigers, leopards and elephants
are in fear, trembling
it's the end of the world
it's the apocalypse
the signs are unmistakable
you can't run
there's no place to hide
even fear has come too late

kings and princes are calling out
to their subjects
shut the gate
protect us
but all have fled from the palaces
to save their families
and loyalty crumbles

and the powerful
are rushing to their hidden vaults underground
to salvage their treasures
before the meltdown

but the red-hot lava is flowing
towards them-closer and closer
all that they are holding in their hands
they throw away
such wealth that had once been amassed
in greed and without compunction
is worth less than sand or mud
item by item the articles drop on the ground

and for once
the human race
starts to wake up
and now it utters--
what's the worth
of diamonds or gold
power, influence and position
here is hell
there is no food nor shelter
we have not eaten for days
soon we shall all be swallowed up
by nature in her relentless revenge

suddenly the rich and arrogant
are trying to become friends of those whom
once they despised and trampled upon
all because this is the hour
of reckoning -side by side-
so humble, so suppliant , so gentle
they suddenly become
'let's help one another'
they speak--first time in their life-
they never knew any language in their heydays
but only that which served their selfish ends
never mind the body odour of the nearest person
what if he were only a labourer or janitor
body touching body
as there's safety in numbers-
like a horde of animals crouching
like children in helplessness crying
like beggars in obsequious beseeching
how easy now to embrace humility
to feel just for a moment the meaning of humanity
man thought once
(before the spectre of now)
he could overcome nature
and rule the earth--
forever

all is quiet now
darkness is descending
the winds are mocking
the clouds are in somber gathering
no human voice is heard--no one is speaking
amidst the debris all around
why is there not a single bird
among the trees or in the air?
in this hell-on-earth?
no bird shall sing
and man shall never walk
this way
again

moonlight through
summer
leaves, a ripple
on a pond,
enchantment
smouldering.