Crickets

Poetry by me, art from Pinterest

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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.