Sydnie Brint


Mother Earth

June 9, 2017

Mother, I’m sorry for how we treated you. How we filled your eyes with clouds of pollution and fed you chemicals and gasoline.
We are greedy, and unthoughtful. We take your stones and the water you’ve given us and keep them to ourselves. A growing parasite on an aging back, inflicting wounds deeper than the trenches, and seeping poison into your veins.
Mother, I’m sorry for how we hurt you. Cutting down your trees, laying concrete over your skin, and burning scars into your body.
We are aware of what we are doing, and yet we make no attempt to stop it. Landfills fill the pores of your face and yet we try to create more slick oil to pour over your body. We say we will try, yet we speak tall tales that fall short on actions.
Mother, I’m sorry for making you cry. Hunting down your children on this planet for reasons that we believe that they are below us. Trapping them, caging them, consuming them. The haunting pile of corpses that we have created is a weight that we pile upon your sore knees.
The fish no longer swim through water but tar, the birds no longer fly through air but smog, the bees are dwindling, the numbers are depleting. A tiger no longer lives in the jungle but in a glass box at the zoo. We are killing your children, sending them back to you too soon without shedding a tear.
Mother, I don’t want to say goodbye.
And yet here we are, the end of the tracks. No turning back of what we have done to you. The land is crumbling beneath our feet, the tides are rising, the air is thickening. Suffocating ourselves, but we must continue on this path of destruction because it is only what we know to do.

Mother, I’m sorry for what we have done.


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  • June 9, 2017 - 8:22am (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Kaitlyn ❄

    Very clever. I love this and totally agree.

    over 3 years ago