We stand here for a fragment
a mere blink in time,
tasting the air with our tongues,
feeling the earth’s warm breath
on the soles of our feet,
we worry, we worry for our survival
for food, water and our children’s future,
when we finally leave them
to take our place in the dust, as dust.
Our fears are not humanitarian
they are personal, ashamed
of behaviours past, and how
our fingerprints mark the land,
we wring our hands and ring our bells
to signal feigned regret, embarrassment
that our footprint left such a heavy
stain on this tiny piece of space
in this minute fraction of time.
*
© Graham Sherwood 10/2019