Poem by
Linda Hays-Gibbs

Earths Grace

My pores are valleys

Craggy and unkept

My hair cut down, bald

In places bereft

Where  green trees slept

And wild eagles called

My skin, casualties 

My veins polluted

Garbage crammed inside me

Where nothing suited

All made mockery 

My lungs black and dead

Everything cut or uprooted

While on my blood you fed

Where will you live  instead

Without Earth's Grace

When all life is dead

And you have no place