Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
We're writing as the daughter of a / dying world / as
its new-faced alert. / In math, the slash / also called
the solidus / means division, divided by. / We were
divided / from each other, person / person. / Some
griefs, like rivers, are uncross / able. They are not to be
waded across / but walked beside. Our loss / colossal
& blossomed / is never lost on us. Love the earth / like
we've failed it. To put it plain / we have shipwrecked
the earth / soiled the soil / & run the ground aground. /
Listen. We are the loud toll / on this planet. / Our future
needs us / alarmed. Man is a myth / in the making. /
What is now dust will not return, / not the beloveds /
nor their breath, / nor the sugar-crumbling glaciers, /
nor the crows chewing / on their own soured song, /
nor all the species / slashed / down / in one smogged
swoop. / Extinction is a chorus / of quiet punching /
that same note. What can never be brought back / can
still be brought forth / in memory / in mouth / in mind.
To say it plain is to tell / only half / of the story.
Written by Amanda Gorman
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