Written in December 2006
.
There is no wholesome plant here
There is no learning
No passion.
Being with the dead kills me.
.
There aren’t enough trees
Not enough shade
Dry dust and plastic.
.
My tears are not water enough
to give life to this
Nor my anger or frustration.
.
The only thing that’s constant
is the blue sky above. So
.
I wish to be a bird that finds freedom in the blocks
I wish to be the clouds again
I wish to be the trees, my friends and the ever-moving breeze.
.
I see machines everywhere
They never walk alone
But they are.
.
There is no freedom or intelligence.
.
I need water and sunshine,
I need leaves, insects, streams, lakes,
I need Home.