lines written in anger at the imminent destruction of my planet

only beauty
& the tenderest
emotions give
me hope
that this
experiment
in sentience
might continue

there is no beauty
in your greed
no tenderness
in your grab
at the cloth
of green that cloaks
my land

you are a criminal
in my society
you
of the fire-spouting
arms

i will turn
away
from you
we all
will turn away
in our praise
of the poet
& the mother
& the lover
of the woods
for what
they are
& not
for what
they offer up
by way of profit
or commodity

we will be free
of the cruelty
of the choices
that you make
for us
& the only wrath
we'll feel
within our bones
will point
at you.