Disconnection

Gabriela Georges

There is a collective amnesia,
maintained as we grow to forget.
Nature is not merely without
but within.       We are

warm-blooded like the birds dancing in the skies.
Cellular like every plant, fruit and butterfly.
Shedding layers of ourselves in order to grow,
like bark peeling off trees. Rising and resting

with the Sun. Found in complete darkness
only to be seen through reflection,
like the Moon. Creating ripples in motion
a duck gliding through a still lake for the first time.

Living but not made alone.
Our survival tied with the thriving
of beings we forget are alive.
A puzzle incomplete, a missing piece.

One thread of a tapestry,
stretching further than our future, history.
One paintbrush stroke of a masterpiece
made of fractals around us.

The environment, a mirror
of who and what we are.
A face, unfamiliar.
Our Mother, raging,

urging us to return, burning to signal distress.
We simply admire her beauty from afar, as if
it excludes her from the brutality of death.
Hypnotic paralysis looms
over
the ashes.