LINES OF THOUGHT © 2015

The earth bleeds, for it has been wounded,

Torn by the hands that should care for it,

Its cry echoes in the battered nature,

That, in silence, weeps without quit.

Each cut is a memory lost,

Each wound a cry of pain,

And what once was a blooming life,

Now suffers, pale in its strain.

But the earth, with its ancient strength,

Still pulses, still breathes,

Hoping that man, one day, can

Heal what his action have seized.

The earth bleeds, but does not surrender,

It calls for those who defend and comprehend.

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