This Land

Wandering in a fetid wasteland,

Not looking at the sewage produced

But at twinkling lights of distraction,

Vapor dolls and piles of fake coins.

Where will this axis spin and wobble,

Leaving all the dross in its wake?

We shut our eyes and plug our ears,

Meditating to the hum of smartphones,

TVs, microwaves, and laptops.

When it is truly silent

There is pitched constant wailing,

The electric cacophony doesn’t stop.

Tied by bandwidth and data usage

We stumble past gasping fish

And animals full on shopping bags.

What is it that propels us on

To this self-imposed extinction?

Put it down and ponder.

 

© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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