Watering Dead Plants

I stopped to water dead plants today

Out of obligation or hope,

I’m still not certain

Could the water somehow restore life

to the withering, shriveling leaves

Could the stems, like Jack’s beanstalk,

once again reach longingly towards the sky

I sit in the memory

of how they once stood strong

before suffering the consequences

of human hands

Now I watch them

barely clinging to life

And I wonder if this apartment

is just a reflection of the world outside

Can our forests grow through the gaps

in our disdain, our destruction

Can they outlast our smoke, our smog,

our fires and chainsaws

Can they bend beneath the

weight of our insatiable

quest for cheeseburgers

Will we have a future

where the leaves are still green

Or will we be left, like this apartment,

where only the cactus survives

Will we create a climate

where only the ones designed

to withstand the scorching heat

and the scarcity of fresh water

remain unscathed

While the rest of us fall

like these dead leaves

I do what I can

I water dead plants

Out of obligation or hope,

I’m still not certain

Written July 1, 2023