Contrast

This is an old poem I wrote for a poetry slam. 

shimmering auroras, a dancing curtain of

violet hues. that once glinted off a pristine sheet

of ice, that now glint off waves of water. that once

brought warmth to a glacial landscape, that now

pirouette in a melting backdrop, shards of ice rolling

like butter under feet. heat rising to the heavens, 

sheets of ice becoming fragments, water rising.

twinkling stars, pure, celestial light. that once

brought rays, symbols of hope to lone wanderers,

lost among verdant trees and fronds that waltzed

on sparkling ponds. dots of glitter that now hide

behind smoke coiling from a million houses, behind

strata of suffocation, behind decades of negligence. that

shine to fallen trees, illnesses, an endless torrent of noise.

meteor showers, flickering orbs of fire that provided rare,

ephemeral beauty to gazing animals. shooting

across the dusky sky, a crepuscular show. spheres that now

perform before acres of cement, before humans that never

come out, the animals having departed. departed to

the chasm of death, to the endless expanse of seclusion,

to the boundaries of unforgiving hamlets, cities, nations.

galaxies once shone, an astral orchestra. rising upwards,

ending at infinity. that now watch the earth melt, its greenery

fading, falling prey to the noose of urban civilization. that

watch oil corrupt the earth’s oceans, fish become

motionless grains of rice. animals beseeching the

immaculate heavens for help, begging to be taken to

a place where mankind doesn’t exist. to a place where

trees are not razed, where their moans of agony can

be heard, where the grieving of a mother whose cub was

killed to smoke stirs emotion. where the skies and oceans retain

their original hue, where seas are not murky due to

foul liquids sloshing in. where blazing fires are conjured

to provide heat to shivering creatures on a frosty day,

and not to burn mountains of litter, debris on a

sweltering winter noon. where illumination arises

from the heavens, and not from the winking lights of

urbanization; where the melodies from the stars can be

discerned in all their purity. no hope in humanity. for

ever since the animals’ conception, ever since their

birth—they’ve been crying to the galaxies, to the universe,
to save their only earth.