by Rachel Hoyt
image by sakhorn38 via freedigitalphotos.net
I've got a sinking feeling
that we're sinking our own ship.
Although some hands are reeling,
on the sails they have no grip.
Pirates plunder the shallows
digging for buried treasure,
hoping the sea won't swallow
them and their sordid pleasures.
Nearby on sailboats, speed boats,
and yachts we sail along blind,
hoping that innocence floats
and ignorance calms the mind.
Deep down below bubbles hope,
a vital resource and glue
which bursts when prodded or groped,
dropping all it held onto.
I stand on land protected
by valiant hands dense with love,
gazing at seas injected
by greedy forces from above.
My ship is anchored, for now,
if yours sinks will mine follow?
Will the sea warn me somehow,
before it starts to swallow?
© 2013 Rachel Hoyt. All rights reserved.
After reading of a sink hole that is slowly swallowing a town,
I was glad to know that nearby fracking was mostly shut down.
If only the ocean nearby was ruled by those whom it could drown...