Echoes of Earth’s Sorrow

June 23, 2023 in English Poetry

From swimming in the corals to swimming in the trash
The plastics are coming in the way of my splash.
When I go into the city from my hills homestay,
The air is too weird, I can see the sprints of gray.
There was a time during covid when birds I hadn’t seen came out.
Now some hide under the seasides in our apartments.
Finally I felt some tranquility knowing the wounds of mother earth were healing,
Yet we returned to where we were.
That made my inside hurl.