From Where I Sit

From where I sit, I can see the dried-up riverbed that once flowed, the empty ocean that teemed with shoals of fish. They are all dead now, stifled, in a blink of Humanity’s eye, victims of our self-imposed apocalypse.

From here, I see the hunger lands we both knew as flourishing fields of golden barley. Grazing pastures alive with horses, cattle, sheep. Hidden delights: badger setts, moles burrowing, grass snakes - legless lizards basking under the decimating, deadly sun. Filled now with famine, starvation, strife. Shadowlands for the grieving survivors, the chosen few who pray for the end to come.

Here I sit, gazing at your concrete tower blocks, prisons to the poor, the fearful, locked-in captives of never-ending quarantine. Suckling on the skeletal breasts of social media, milking your discontent, disparaging opinions, rebellious intentions, faded dreams - for all their useless worth.

I see you! Fearing me. Mask-on-face. Standing metres away from me. Sanitiser on hands. I smell your sweat. Feel your hot breath on my cheeks. Catch the teardrops streaming down your face.

See you, pining, yearning for a lost love, our love, a love that can never be consummated.

You see, I’m infected, contagious, spreading like the wildfires burning in the rain forests.

I’m your virus, your destiny, your future - Earth.

It’s too late for you to change your heartless ways.

Think it’s time I left now.

(C) HJ Furl 2021

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