It is not just the loss of land
nor the flooding of our homes
it is the injustice of oppression
ignorance of what I am feeling.
Someone pours water down the sink
unknowingly wasting my weary woes
another flushes the flood away into
the sewer taking our hopes too.
There are other Tryweryns where
people are treated as boxes, shifted
from where they’ve grown
to a nowhere, shallow earth and no words for roots
Cofiwch Dryweryn and battle the bigots
against an agenda to triumph
over God’s creation and creatures craft
and leave behind the drowned.
Soon though the warming world
will dry out the green to brown
littering the landscape with bones,
will the skeleton of Tryweryn rise.