How to Say “Sorry” to an Earth (of no words)

the children play in the hot streets
in this orange summer,
fading light,
afternoon a whisper;

at dusk,

the stars reach out
to catch the lonely, unsuspecting

(if we could turn off all the lights in the world
would we look up and say,
sweetie,
that's what cities used to look like
(from space)

instead, maybe
we will take the red-eye flights
just to look down on lit-up cities, and say,
sweetie,
that's what stars used to look like
(from home))

things don't have to be broken to be fixed—
just breaking;

breaking,
like replacing real stars with Hollywood;
generations with generators;
creating our own mountains
of non-recyclables, land full of commercial death;

breaking,
like how we're slowly burning
our world-house down.

tonight,

turn off the lights;
the stars reach out for you.

-Jessica McCabe

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