A Holy Thirst



I am thirsty

Like the sycamore,

Whose ancient roots reach

For a water that is no longer



The sacred springs are brown and brittle

The aquifers, depleted

The thirsty earth is everywhere

I go


It is one thing for a tree to die

It is another for an ecosystem to wane, and perish

But to watch the world around you burn —

I wonder if this is a grief that any humans knew

Before us


Worlds rise and fall

But this is the one

To which we belong

Where will we be go?

There is nowhere

I know.


It is the world of spirit

Which awaits us, and

Its fingers, like plumes of rising smoke

Beckon me closer

With each passing year

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