By Alexander Castro
Our haven is raped by those who live on it
Our home neither stone nor brick
It is the ground on which we stand.
Not the cement, diverse minerals compacted
But volcanic molded metamorphic rocks
Igneous’ cooling of magma.
It is the greenery we’re on
A domain to thousands desiring protection and food.
It appears in many shapes and forms throughout the map.
The domain does not divide us.
We are mixed as one in this haven.
Terrain molded into unusual forms and crevices;
We violate it by marking its landscape
Creating waste-filled floating continents in our oceans
Penetrating the skylines with chemicals
Stripping the land of its identity
Monuments of the dead placed on top.
The root of our sanctuary forgotten, only seen for what it is now,
But in my memory this serenity lays at ease.
Every so often I’m brought face to face with my old haven
as I’m exposed to the greenery of the forest.
A déjà vu sparked with each visit
As I dive away from my conscious,
I’m able to smell the scent of our mother
and feel the presence of her spirit.
She is pleased by my company, and I am pleased
by her former tranquility.