I will write till my pens protest or run out of ink,
I cannot remain silent when in floods breaths sink.
I will write about the preciousness of the planet,
on how fires rout the rainforests and disconnect
humans from the charm, peace and piety of nature.
I will write about how I see a logger as a voracious vulture.
I will write till nature is rightly nurtured and my pens run out of ink,
for forests help control rain patterns, deter droughts: do we ever think
of that? That anomalous disasters are fueled by climate change, that wetlands
and reefs foil famines and floods? From rising seas, shores are shielded by swamplands?
I will write till my pens spit greens and sense on the need to stave off further damage as a result
of climate change. I will write about marshes that shelter shores from swelling seas and storm hurt.
Ndaba Sibanda
