header photo

Fife Writes

Lesley Walker - Small prayers

Small prayers
Earth lies heavy, compressed, depressed, comatose under concrete
    as the city sweats a fever dream of glass and steel
        and pavements fry in stark white glare.
    Thermals of greenhouse gases rise silently, unseen.
        A lonely tree stands wilting in its pot, the token green.
Earth is covered, smothered in hot bitumen and brick
    Forests razed where deer once browsed
        birds sang and rabbits grazed, erased, for a new house
    Engines manufacture noise from nothing but air and fossil fumes.
        Plastic rolls consumed, planted for blind grass and empty blooms.
A bee flies past inert lawn as life looks on, remembering, once
    each pile of leaf and stack of twig was home to someone
        bright wildflower meadows stood in pools of dappled shade
    glades where butterflies danced, countless creatures thrived,
        now only their pale shadows survive, helpless against the building tide.
Yet all life springs from life in the same way, slugs and slime-moulds share our DNA,
    We eat from the same soil, blossom in the same sun,
        Share the same air, toil on the same blue-green sphere. Everyone
    can love something. Kneeling, supplicant, I wage organic warfare, quietly
        Sowing, growing; each plant my own small prayer for nature, a piety.

Go Back


Blog Search