Before Humanity Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

This
world now
beckons to the
crowds and storms
and quakes… and calls
out to all the grave diggers
to the clays, the dirt, the sands
sings, to the decomposed granite
begs, to the winds, that move through
trees and grasses and herbs; to be allowed
to live in complete isolation away from the
species human … you, of the all of my
roots, you clouds and rains; I give
you a vast reign and call to your
screaming and mourning.
Hear this soundless song
dream of, and think
thoroughly of
‘that soil, ' and call
this living an isolation
bringing about the repossession
of all that was created
before humanity.