We Are Not Quick

People Over Politics, World Over Wealth!

Sky Water Bodega Bay

Sky Water Bodega Bay ~ Philip Brent Harris


When did I lose the songs of the mother earth?

Or were they buried beneath noise long before?

Before my birth, this birth, though perhaps

There was a time when I and all could hear them.

Maybe only one could not hear and determined

that if he could not, for surely it was a man,

then no one would ever hear those songs again.

When did I cease to inhabit the vast void of night,

to be prickled by distant stars and other worlds,

the chorus of comets, nebulae and all we cannot see?

Have I forgotten or never known the magic of midnight,

the sweet caress of winter before spring quickens?

Though we move swiftly now, we are not quick.

The freshening spring bubbled up, flowed and grew,

Chattering over rocks, whispering in deep channels.

Swollen into streams and mighty rivers, rich with life.

Now, the rain is gone or falls in intemperate torrents, floods.

It runs across our landscape with the speed of fire,

where it stagnates, swollen by ash and trash, by greed.

The paucity of precipitation, as some might opine,

Brings drought, fear and ferocious fires, all-consuming.

Air rises aloft, updrafts as beneath a raptor’s wing.

Turgid with the foul brown smoke of fire, factories,

processing food, creating our false day of warmth and light.

Fathering our demise through car and truck exhaust.

This and more commerce of our calamity subverting soil and sky.

Thus, I can hear no longer the dulcet voice of breezes

subsumed within the fury of the shrieking storms return.

Hurricanes, monsoons, and tornadoes in any season.

I watch the oceans whipped to froth, waves like weapons

Battering the shores and washing away man’s whimsy,

his belief that what he builds will stand forever more.

I wonder daily if there is still sufficient time to change.

We know we have lost the hum of freshly tilled earth,

enriched by moles and voles, bugs and worms, following

paths we would wash away in our ignorance and selfishness.

I must believe we can balance on the brink, step back

And listen to the songs of every creature, including us,

or I must relinquish hope and withdraw for my sanity.

Take another step back, stop and listen without speech

or thought to hear the songs of mother earth entire.

Before it’s too late to salvage our home and humanity,

I urge you to trust yourself, seek our song’s harmony.


Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,

Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment 

Unite the World!


Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Philip Brent Harris Fine Art, Digital Art and Photography

Sky Water Bodega Bay

Sky Water Bodega Bay ~ Philip Brent Harris

Brent Harris Fine Art
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