(TW: Death)
For generations, they respected the land,
the water, the forest and tree,
the wolf, the bear, eagle, and deer.
The Earth is their mother,
the spirit their guide.
Who guides me?
The visitors brought generations of fear;
of the wolf, the bear, and each other.
Dividing the land and its inhabitants,
they sought to conquer and tame.
The world is their trophy
and capitalism the gun.
I live on land that is not mine.
Her people, long departed,
left not a trace.
Their legacy, a world in balance.
I am not like them.
My ancestral home lies buried
deep beneath water and dirt,
colonist dreams,
and a thousand broken promises.
Am I just like them?
Every day the refuse grows
every week they take it away,
to build mountains
that vent to the sky.
While I sit,
eating fast food in my car.
The longer I watch
without taking action,
the faster I make my descent;
deeper into apathy.
Am I the problem?
Another breath,
another life begins,
another consumer born,
another species dies,
and a mother struggles to breathe.
My mother is dying
and I am the cancer.
~ elr
Image: ID 131400580 © Volodymyr Shevchuk | Dreamstime.com