“How can you feel so lonely?
You talk to more Gods and Spirits than anyone I know.”
Well, there was that one,
at the the receding ancient lake
It’s memories breaking over me in waves
so desperate for someone to “See Me, Listen to Me,
We’re still here.”
And the one in the old park, so beautiful
wearing layers of artificial craft
“Look at how beautiful everything has been made.
See this path, see this house, see these amusements?
We’re still here, but you have made it beautiful.”
Then there were the ones
out in the barren desert
their bodies hollowed, their eyes sunken openings,
just like the mines on the land
they were attached to.
No, it is quite lonely
when you can best relate to ravaged and forgotten spirits
of a land that has long been used up
for all it has to offer.