Before the Mute

Once, trees may have spoken
to humans.
The day he cut one down,
the tree lost its voice.

The wind was once in gossip --
a roaming storyteller,
whispering secrets across the land.
Then chimneys got frantic.
Black smoke clogged wind’s throat;
carbon tightened its vocal cords.

Earth, the mother, saved lives.
She sang while giving
food, water, shelter.
We answered her lullaby
with weapons.
Her sighs dissolved
under bomb blasts.

Mountains, rivers, clouds,
animals, birds…
old companions
fell silent, one by one.
Only man kept talking.
Louder.
To himself.

Now left the human race,
arguing, infighting.
As we watch,
half the world has gone mute.
Not by choice.
By design.