MOTHER EARTH DIED LONG AGO
Your gasoline(per)fumes
litre my atmosphere
and my people,
suddenly,have become
unbreathably hot.
Mother Earth died
long ago;
and we, her children, killed her.
She
begged and gave us signs, but we heeded not her plea.
Not even to her acidic tears!
and orographic wailings.
We drilled her body
for oil,and tattooed her skin
with soot.
Petro(dull)ars given to our
unbright government, and
alas! Mother Earth, she weeps.
Hard-vocacy, her true
sons have taken to.
Sleepless slumber they
have observed.
Paraphernalias of war they have worn.
Fire of activism they have ignited
on oil blazed torches
and set on oil based factories.
Fighting the others
who have forsaken their mother.
And seasons…
seasons like these are like
clasped destinies.
Shaped and moulded
by a potter we know not of,
but lived by unfortunates and bastards
like me and you, for our Mother Earth is dead,
we killed her, and can no longer
divine the ends of these things.
Prosper Ifeanyi is a Nigerian writer. He is the Editor-in-chief of OneBlackBoyLikeThat Review and a reader for Khoreo Magazine. His works are featured/forthcoming in Identity Theory, Lumiere Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Salamander Ink Magazine, Kalahari Review, Aôthen Magazine, 2022 Libretto Anthology and elsewhere. Reach him on Twitter and Instagram: @prosperifeanyii
Banner Art: Silence, a visual image by Robert Frede Kenter (c) 2022. Twitter: @frede_kenter
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