^{_{This piece was written for the Green Office’s Spring Poetry competition, on the theme: Environmental Guilt, which took place between the months of April-May 2022.}}

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Brothers, sisters, our mother is sick

Act quick! This is our life giver, she who nursed our wounds

We’re doomed! Without her, we’d be dirt, nothing much

Out of touch, we’re estranged, while she’s sat there mourning

I got a warning, her fever advancing, possibly over two degrees

A plea: to reconcile - It may not be too late!

Don’t wait, see how she pales? How much more will it take?

Take, that’s all we’ve done, relentlessly breaking her with one closed eye

It’s suicide, the slowest kind. We’re nothing without her, can’t you see?

She is the solace you find in sunsets, a warm sea breeze,

She is ease; the smoothness of fresh air loved by your breath

Even in death, she gives, the way only a mother could, ’til nothing is left -

Bereft. She sits and waits for us to reconnect

Show some respect, and if not for her, do it for you,

Break through - cause there will be no greater regret

You’ll never forget, abandoning your mother when she needed you most

The ghost, it will haunt you in ways you won’t be able to bare

Beware: the deepest guilt, the heaviest shame,

We’ll be left with nothing, and the only ones to blame.