Sunrise Through A Small Window
a prayer for our waltz with Gaia
A glimpse of sunrise through a small window.
On the horizon a grey and rose island to fly to,
my wings unfurled as wide and impossibly
as an albino peacock’s tail feathers
my feet bare, massaged while they root
into the translucent
Oh, Mother Earth, your empathic hands,
fingers French manicured with sun beams
Your crown, the peeping, patient moon
Your aura, starred
Your song, a psalm of gathering lamentation
increasingly out of harmony with hope
silver lining darkening with cacophonies of acid algae,
a fortissimo purple Danube of denial.
We are Your co-creators
Our blithe climate must change,
apathy is an aberration –
especially here,
on sacred ground in luscious, yet lustrous air
©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2021
Mosquitoes, humidity, triple digit heat, severe drought, shorter showers, succulents replacing petunias, impatiens, dahlias —…
