not radical.

I have fallen so hard
for you.

Your eyes like little moons
(and moonlit too)
reflect the longing my eyes
reflect from yours
reflect from me
reflect from yours
reflect from…

Once a spark,
now it can never
be quenched.

I have fallen so hard
for you.

Mahal, just close
your eyes.
Listen to my voice, as I sing
your lullaby…

Do you not realize
when a tree falls here,
God dies?

I can’t hear God
in the city

(nowhere to be found here,
far removed from nature).

Where do prayers go from here,
with no one to hear
them?

Pushing against metal and concrete,
falling on dead urban deities,

caged in this world
desiring nettle and leaves—

(where we finally hear Her voice)

the Spirit lives in me—
in the Woods—
in the Trees—

and when the rain falls,
I fall on my knees.

Looking across fallen trees,
at the hundreds of species
going extinct
today,

the greatest tragedy I finally see—
as the rain coats my face and I stumble
from my knees—

with exhaust in my lungs
while my eyes
are crying—
the entire damned planet
is dying.

…my Mother is dying.