To Rape, Not Ripen

Small hands strangle Mother Earth, make her drink poison. With her own blood, she’s made to pen her own obit; then force fed one climate lie after another. Small minds, and even smaller hearts, disturb Mother Earth’s peace with dis-ease. Turn her parks, mountains, and creatures into alternative facts. Earth’s voice grows hoarse with all her pleas for help. You can hear her cries in the rising storms. You can witness her tears in the rivers overflowing. 


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