As foul and dry blasts the fair mountain breath,
That carries bright embers, to shining rest
Upon a parched land now burning to death.
The sea of the East spawns more mighty beasts,
A-prowl on waters that lap battered shores,
Weary from previous fury and feasts,
Once again battening windows and doors.
Silent, invisible, floating on air,
Lingering death walks unheard and unseen;
Launched by a loved one or those who don’t care,
Claiming their right to be selfish and mean.
While the great mass of humanity strives,
Fails to find hope, communication,
Or solutions for sharing, saving lives --
Now dying in quiet desperation.
Mick McKellar
August 2020
The day's news is heavy with foreboding and dread. Desperation fairly poured from the screen as I read. A hew and cry for leadership radiated between each line.
Mick
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