We have made a whore of the Earth

(Something I will be reading in Davao’s Earth Hour celebration)

We have squeezed

The breasts of the Earth

Dry

Of its streams and springs

To quench the thirst

Of our Industries

 

We have opened her up

And thrust the fists of our backhoes

Deep into her womb

To grasp and grab out

The wealth hidden within her

 

We have cut up

Her arms of trees,

Which stretched out to the heavens

To offer boons of fruit and flower

To the gods –

Hear her chainsaw screams!

 

We have made a whore of the Earth

 

And yet we are left with nothing

But collapsing cliff-faces,

arid days,

nights restless

with urban itch fueled

by the oil we squeezed from her,

hunger,

thirst,

emptiness –

the venereal dregs of our unrestrained ravaging.

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