Inner Landscape

Birds singing in the sky.
Trees growing from the soil
grass growing growing
Water singing over stone
falling from on high, cool, clean pure.

The wind….bending the tree
breaking the wood.
Throws the nest, toss’ the eggs
yoke fertilizes the grass
sulfur kills the roots
The wind travels past the factory
that pumps pollution into the water once
so pure and pristine.
Grayness falls over stone
becoming brown and dead.

Is that laughter in the wind?
Cruel, uncaring, words hurtful
Clipped wings the birds no longer fly lay dying on the ground.
The land once so joyful, spoiled under the grey sky
Lightning cracking in the dim sky over barren ground.

Ghosts watch, asking when, when
come join us.
Haunting, whispering...staring.
It doesn’t hurt...anymore.
Sending dreams of death, gun shots, pain.
Souls lay bare.
Things get damaged, broken...nothing more to give.

Something so fragile, now empty
Birds wheel, coming to land….
Carrion birds the last living thing here.
Picking thru the bones releasing the spirit to
wander in the wasteland perhaps to join the wind.
Perhaps to go and watch someone else and stare, whispering
When, when...come join ...