Tuesday, July 22, 2014

I have become a marshland
Soft and plunging,
Folding underfoot.
I was once a rich meadow
But you dammed me,
Building your dens-
They call it bio diverse
A rich environment
Where before you saw only
A slightly arid stretch 
And a stream ran through it.
You laud the habitat you built but
Now I can only give out 
and never recieve.
Did you not see the depths
And breadths of my weavings
Were the homes built in me invisible 
when they were not of your own hands?
The only breaths of life with meaning
It seems,
Are the ones that flourish as you thrive.

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