Creative Work


Elizabeth Green, 16

Technicolor skies at night,
cities’ dawn till morning’s light,
only the moon far up above—
where are the stars I used to love?
Though once their glory shown so bright,
they’re blotted out by city lights.
Street corner glow shows me the way
as I ride through the night till the bright of day.
Skyscrapers jagged against a deep orange sky—
if I look up that’s all I’ll find.
Jungles and oceans are now obsolete,
which happens when wild and human meet.
I wasn’t the one who killed the trees,
the tigers, lions, birds, or bees.
No, I was the one who told them to stop;
but did they listen to me? Obviously not.
I’ve done all I can; I can’t go on,
but we are the ones to whom the Earth belongs.
We can bring a stop to this; we can make it end,
and maybe someday the Earth will mend.

—from devozine (May/June 2015). Copyright © 2015 by The Upper Room®. All rights reserved.

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