Published in Cafe Dissensus, August 2020
Pluck the leaves off the grass.
The stalks – bare green veins
that will not cover the Earth
Brown, red, black, white is the dust.
Dust unto Dust; under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and – sans End!
Green is the grass that grows to hold the Earth,
to give life, to give birth to life,
to perpetrate mankind.
The Martian landscape reddened,
unforgiving, unhistorical, inhospitable,
Did it hate life? Did it know life?
Did it also statues, edifices of the past, break
till the whole landscape,
mutilated by the blood of the unheard,
of the untried, cave into sands
that wiped out life?
Pluck the leaves off the grass
and weep for what will not be…
Complete reading the poem by clicking here.