Emergency Climate Over

The skeletal remains of the 

last of lives

sightless eyes

stare up at the bleaching

sun, while the grit gilds them.


Broken cities dry as the dust

from fallen homes

and human bones

silently cling

to costly crippling pasts.


High over the hills stretches 

the storm ridden.

hope hidden

sky, where no bird

borrows air to soar.


A few feathers float on the scum

from wasted oil

salted soil

and the silent  swards stare

at swollen sulphur waters.


Elephants grazing,

lives stunted,

shot and hunted 

for their white gold

their tusks alone live on.


The hill girt lakes 

richly sourced

fish coursed

much loved sights

emptied of power and pride. 


Once where wildebeest were,

a wondrous sight

a lion’s delight

carcasses crumbling

lost to carbon worship.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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