The Silent Ones

Dear Past Generations

I never saw the rainforests
Never heard God cry through the howler monkeys or seep in through the deco rouge cracks of the jungle floor.

I never felt his sweat hit the burned Sahara's and break and scatter into dust.

Never saw his sun fall between the peaked of snowy mountains as he gently brushed the fruits from the trees and blossoms from the ground.

I never clawed the ocean floor with my toes or broke the waves with my stomach.

No, I never held a helpless creature or ate a soft, warm peach.
I never breathed the caramel pines or walked on coals, or shells, or leaves.
No, these things have never been.

But I've seen photographs of stars and things with wings.
I've heard Gods screams fall on naive ears and watched his crimson dreams deep into the roots of the 16th Street Baptist Church.

I've felt God's tears drop down the backs of hungry men and evaporate to shame.
Saw sons topple empires and slaughter eternity with every rotten peach.
Watched the ground break and burn and dry the oceans.

Forget breaking waves, all I've ever known of reckless abandon is war,
And the waves of broken people washed up on shore.

I've never held a helpless creature because were the only creatures left and boy have we helped ourselves.
I was born breaking smoke.
Took my first steps in battery acid
and broken glass
and plastic wastelands.

But I'll still never see the clouds darken and strike or hear the earth roar in rebellion. Because "these violent delights have violent ends;" and your vain delights have become my unmerciful ends

So don't forget what you've got, because I will miss what I never had.
I'll pray for clean air
And cool nights
And clear water
And Sweet smells
And quiet mornings
And bandaged hands
And quick solutions
And Happieness
And meaning
And above all else,
Hope.

Please don't kill my hope.

Sincerely,
Future Generations