Re-Cycling

My heart lies deep within, buried
By the very beings whose life
I daily sustain.

When the rain comes, its cycle finished,
Their plates are full and their cups overflow
But they thank me not with words.

They thank me with tall buildings,
Metal erections that scrape against
My outstretched throat.

They thank me with jarring vibrations,
Causing the most deadly of waste
To fall in places unprepared for such toxins.

Their lands dry up, and plants cry out
Asking why their mother has forsaken them,
Not understanding my plight.

I have been trapped
By these beings whose lives depend on me,
Forced into a cycle of unending death.

The trees bend to my will,
Storms rock the seashores,
And men die by droves.

But my purpose is life,
And as my heart beats loudly,
My tears grow the grass tall.

Fields grow plentiful once more,
And again they forget.
They continue to attack my roots.

I cry out as I try to hold the world together.
I cry out as the heat burns my head and my feet.
I scream as the pain becomes too much to bear.

They forget they need me to live,
Their eyes full of hungry hate
As they begin the cycle anew.

And yet, when they finally carve
My tomb, it will simply read:
"Beloved Mother."