Lying there in the arms of the sand
I felt the need to grieve
the parting of my aching heart
from those it vowed to beat for.

None understood the rending of clothes
the dark shroud I draped o'er my brow
as I ran toward the sunset howling
the rising moon rushed to my side.

Forever shall my eyes shed bitter tears
every time a tree falls prey to man
every time a moth is plucked from the wild.

More so if my hand is unwittingly involved
I cannot deny my human flesh and blood
nor my soul's eternal ties to the living Whole.

Natural Grief
by Cindy Aixmar Salgado