Only Death Remaining

My hood is raised, wandering through the ash-lands

of what humanity made of itself.

Burnt and desolate waste as far as the eye can see.

Air putrid with the stink of decay.

Undeterred winds casting forth clouds of bone-dust.

Sun glowing blood-red,

barely discernible behind the impenetrable wall of air-borne cinder.

No life to make a sound but that of the howling wind.

No trees left standing.

Crops burned to the ground.

Lake beds, rivers, and seas laying empty –

even the water-creatures turned to dust.

Soot, ash, and cinder – all that remains of what humanity touched.

Skeletal fingers sucking the beauty and life out of all that once was.

Humanity the makers of their own doom.

Fair warning we gave them.

Begging and pleading for them to take care.

Mute were we to their greed-filled ears and gluttonous eyes.

“Never enough.  Never enough.  Never enough,”

they cried like frantic egg-laying flesh-flies.

Consuming and bursting. Consuming and bursting.

Even maggots could no longer survive.

A pestilence upon this once magnificent planet humanity became.

A plague upon themselves.

Then the wars came.

And then Death.

Now, only Death remains,

And I am She.

copyright Lauri Ann Lumby

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