Crickets
Poetry by me, art from Pinterest
This is the sound of what I cannot say,
The crickets speak the silence my worst fears,
The crickets hum the judgement between friends
A symphony of disagreements that don’t matter
In the end after the great flash of volcanos
They will strum a different tune with many legs
Even though the notes will ring out the same
The tension will die when I am in my grave
May the crickets drown out those thoughts
Tall grasses are audience to this melody of madness
After the plume of great sunlight and smoke
We will not have to worry about the catch our throat
Where we used hesitate and turn our aid away
From the unhoused or the workers on the streets
The crickets will continue speaking in our place
Long wailing sirens mark many emergencies
Perhaps the end of the world as shown on tv
Bringing about a wasteland where the ash will rain
Strip away the skin off the face of humanity
They are dying between anonymous alleys
Dropping day by day when the dust settles
Orange with regrets of the fading sun
The people’s lives are too bright and too dim
Nothing but the crickets to sing for them
All human life reduced to a button because
No tune we sing could cause intervention.



beautiful 🦗
I love the way it anchors profound, desperate human emotion in nature, in matter, in concrete detail.