The sun submerges into a sea of wheat.
Torrents of milk skim the mountaintops.
If winter strikes, we show off our coats.
As the day dies, a beautiful horizon is born.
Our planet offers so much abundance.
Anything superfluous and dispensable, we discard.
Our “love” is a native of Hell
because it doesn’t feel the misery in the world.
Instead, we steal the earth’s wealth and abundance.
A fragile child staggers.
She falls and curls up, suffering.
A desperate mother falls upon her,
murdered by the world that let her die.
–You can find the poem in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo–