Matricide Poem by Thea Pound

Is it not so, That we have fallen,
Almost deafened to The Calling,
Our cenotaph, such great glass columns,
In the urban jungle Sprawling.

Clouds drift ever up to meet the skies,
A blackened fog to blind the eyes,
And bind the throat and smother cries;
Such self-made smog forms our demise.

What of the sounds, at one time ringing?
For absent birds, we're want of singing,
Yet oblivious to the pain we're bringing,
We continue the massacre, endless sinning.

Once Majestic trees mastered the land,
Now raped to satisfy demand.
Is this the price we place on Man,
Are we worth more than the World we've damned?

How keen we are, our parts are played,
Without a thought to those betrayed.
We claim to know better, but still we degrade,
Though Beauty for Greed is an unequal trade.

Though nurtured by our Earthly Mother,
We drain the Lifeblood of another;
An injustice which no excuse can cover,
Our Hearts grown cold; we no longer Shudder.

Is it too late to correct our mistakes,
To save the world we rend and break?
Let us open our eyes to what's truly at stake,
I pray we do soon; For all of Our sake's.