The sun rose this morning,
as if the day was not in any
way out of the ordinary, days
gone far too large to count
for those with finite capacity.
The birds begin, their harmonious
cacophony, though they think
it is their lauds, matins of reflection
burned off with the dew under
the gentle glare of a late spring sun.
They watch us begin to stir,
imagine how it must be to live
cocooned in oddly symmetrical
boxes, venturing out but retreating
as though the sky was to be feared.
They do not ask how we could
so easily, remorselessly, lay waste
to our shared home, for they
have moved past mourning,
as we remain mired still in denial

First appeared in Parcham Literary Review (India), Issue 3, May 2023
https://parchamonline.in/2023/04/21/poems-third-issue/5/#a-strange-life-louis-faber