Dommage Poem by robert dickerson

Once we lived in holy fee
and walked the sacred way-
gold and silver twills and threads
in Nature's tapestry.

But now we sit outside her door
like ruined children groan
and ceaselessly do rap! rap! rap!
and cry to be let in.

'Who', she answers, wise, sweet dame,
'within my garden comes
must leave behind the cars and cans
must leave behind the fumes'.

Her girdle is the gentle rain
transported from the sea
and she condemns the foul stain
it takes from our debris

Her charges are the kissing airs
that swarm about her knees
and she prefers to see them pure-
good mother that she is.

She weeps to run her fingers over
(as you would) each new scar
and she regrets the filthy nets
entangled in her hair.

Reckless child, change!
when will you realize
no rest or peace exist without
the earthly paradise.