And I’m sorry to the birds

The gentle creatures under god 

who swoop down, 

clip the water and clean themselves pure,

Pure are their bodies who have never done wrong, 

but we tar the feathers that sing a sweet song. 

The rising climate’s hand who snaps through the sky, 

and altered the direction in which birds could fly, and

I'm sorry to the fish who school just like me, 

clumping-together in blessed sanctity 

For we have taken your church and turned it bright red, 

and heat ‘til you swim, swim ‘til you're dead. But 

I’m sorry for the trees who sway like a prayer. 

The ones who so graciously lend us our air, 

well the tree 

standing 

tall 

might 

seem 

strong

just 

like us, 

But even the strongest will crumble to dust.

I’m sorry young girl who looks much like me, 

who never understood why we don't save the trees, 

or the fish, or the birds, or the doe or the pigs. 

So you will tell her what the problem is. 

Tell her you wanted to drive a cool car, 

or tell her you needed to cruise like a star. 

Tell her you needed the new brand new iphone,

 or tell her you had to build up your old home.

Or please dear god tell her nothing at all, 

but present your rough hand and make her stand tall.

I’m sorry to the world whose smile begins to fade, cause she’s battered and bruised, 

until a new day is made.