The psalm of progress.

The melting mountains
Wail loudly, proclaiming
Agonies of human torment.
The roads, torn and scratched,
Mar the beautiful body of Earth.
Now, entire valleys
Reveal from afar the wounds
Of human progress and victory.
Nature’s rage upon the poor
Is noteworthy and tragic.
The nation’s gentry,
Seated on soft chairs, devise plans
To save victims while profiting
From donations.
The falling trees, buried in mud,
Echo the thud of villagers’ plight�"
Not the crime of contractors,
But the hymn of development,
The psalm of progress.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Sadly you have described here what is all too common. So called progress eh? The butchering of the landscape for profit. The poor rarely benefit. You painted some devastation with your words.

Chris