G20 Plummet

Her hand grips the cliff’s edge,

as the pebbles of progress fall and tumble.

Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders,

she clinches the brink.

Voices overhead persuade her to let go,

but she says no!

Her children bombard her

with tricks and deceptions,

dishonest reflections.

With her last morsel of strength

she tries hard to pull herself up

to a place of safety.

She just manages to raise her torso,

and sees her children indulging moreso.

Then a figure, smoking a big cigar,

appears forth—so bizarre.

His face exudes carelessness aplenty.

His badge reads “G20.”

In his black suit he smiles,

looks in her eyes,

and whispers:

“Mother.”

As she sweats and gasps for help,

he lifts forth his hand—

then adjusts his cigar,

and puts his hand back in his pocket.

She asks him why

the air that gives him breath on Earth

he’s so quick to blow away—

why the seas that bless the world with life

he just shrugs

as they go affray.

He points to big factories

with signs that read:

“Pleasure,”

“Convenience,”

and “Foolish Obedience.”

Her face embodies a crushed climate.

As she peers down to the abyss,

the man blows her a kiss.

She feels her grip weakening,

as she realises

her very creation

will not bring salvation.

For a moment, they lock eyes intensely

as tears rain down

worse than the biggest flash floods.

Her beautiful green figure,

left to die—

she lets go,

as she looks up to the sky.

Time stands still

as Mother Nature plummets,

while her children

create more summit.