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.