I believe
and I do not
That there will be a reason for all of this
That someone’s grandchildren will be alive to care
how someone their grandmother’s age
spoke out
remained strong in their silence
refused anger and hatred
painted beautiful pictures
believed there was a reason to keep going

I believe
and I do not
That in fifty years the world will still be green enough to keep living in
That mother nature will take her smoking, awesome revenge
and then carry on
in her slow, unplanned but perfectly organized way
That in spite of all our
and giving less than a shit

She will come through with flying colors:
Replant the parking lots and replace our outdated species
(along with the thousands now extinct)
with creatures stronger, more supple, sinewy and pure.
Creatures stupid enough not to ruin that small patch of paradise we left
as we thrashed and connived our shambling way to extinction
that tiny patch of flowers and those three species of trees
that one bit of ocean too deep for us to bother polluting
as we grew so huge that there was nothing left to consume
but our own hands and feet

I believe in the creatures of the future
tiny and slow as sloths
who will require next to nothing but a view
a single leaf or blade of grass
to keep them happy.
They will sit still and let the fragments grow let
a weed become a jungle

But then, when that straggling, spindly jungle becomes strong and wild,
fruits large and protein plentiful
When the rain again comes down clean enough not to kill too young
and life reclaims her hungry birthright of passion
and produces new creatures
large, quick and abundant

Who will stop them?
Who will force them not to eat every single leaf
and plant
and root?
Not to slash and burn and kill?

Not the little quiet ones
Not the ones made only to survive

– Claudia Finn