He’s destroyed the sparrow nest
and he leaves the detritus
piled beneath the bird box.
This morning I see feathers
weighted by raindrops to the wet
grass. I take inventory, six
of them plucked–from a kill?
Surely too many from preening.
I have found corpses–decay so foul
I gagged at ten yards–warming
their nests. Do they worship a god
who insists all this is theirs to
conquer, the lives they displace
have no worth? This malice is not
personal. It’s deep-seated elitism.
They casually kill the living beings
in their way, like colonists in
a new land, destroying the native
population with no remorse,
not even an inkling of the despair
their actions leave a trail
of destruction. My stance crunching
bones of the ones who came before,
I heed this niggling twinge,
the trace of my society’s crimes.
There is no peace here. In the tangled
roots of jealous acquisition,
we nurture the beast blindly
take comfort in the slow
poisoning of all we know.
Inspired by Jealous, Inventory, Peace and Nurture and the reason it’s unedited is because it’s written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: leaves. The rules are no editing, just write it and press publish. So difficult to do!