The elk are uneasy
It's time to cross the lake
You can see it in their faces
The way their noses
Are just so still
The lake is a river
Running
Polar bears are caught
Coughing, paddling for the shore
To no avail
The elk stand tall
Take one step
Then none

i brushed the tips
of her fingers
amidst the PVC pipe
as we sat
linked together
in lock-down.

our forearms stained blue
from the paint and tar
plastered to plastic,
holding down
the chicken-wire
purposefully designed
to make sawing us out
more difficult.

water protectors
chained together,
risking arrest,
the shackles a symbol
that we were willing
to trade our freedom
to save planet earth
from the 6th extinction.

sweat glued garments to skin
as the sun baked down from the heavens.
even if we failed today
to throw a wrench in the works,
still we rage against the machine,
still we sing our refrain endlessly:

*the people gonna rise like the water.
we're gonna face this crisis now.
i hear the voice of my great granddaughter
singing, "shut this pipeline down."
it's bigger than a paycheck.
it's bigger than a job.
if you won't respect our Mother,
we won't respect your laws.

The rain gives way to blossoms and blossoms
give way to snow that never drifts but scatters.

In this way now the weather intervenes;
the legacy of a child’s breath upon a popsicle.

With only one hand on the steering wheel
we still find it hard to let go our designs;

a glance in the mirror of a mirage, of carnage?
The territory swallows us all the same,

only the precision of the map is at stake:
how well the landscape bends to the road.

To be lost in this world and not afraid
is a skill we have yet to remember;

to master life in the ruin of life: life
dissembling in the rings of the ash tree.

What looks like rot is just the caterpillar
giving way to the nascent butterfly

but not like your smile gives way,
breaks, before the latest tyrant.

How dare I meander through the woods,
And touch the trees with my fingers?
Nature wails loudly like a siren,
Yet here among the trees humankind lingers.

The grass crunches under my feet,
It might as well be the skulls of the innocent.
Nature exists as a cruel force but
Compared to people it is benevolent.

Smoke trails from chimneys to the sky,
Like black ink staining bright pages.
Mother Nature’s very tears consist of acid,
Which has accumulated throughout the ages.

Forests are ravaged so that we can have amenities,
Have the desired fabrics, papers, and things of the like.
Humans draw from nature as if it is expendable,
And the environment cannot retaliate nor strike.

When a child is beaten by his parents,
The world is aghast,
For how could one so young
Motivate hatred so vast?

Yet so few weep for nature,
Which in essence is that same crying child.
Unable to raise a hand in defense
Against destruction that is so wild.

Our fingers are stained with Mother Nature’s blood,
Yet we dare to bask in Her beauty.
We have failed to protect her
And we have abandoned our duty.