"Mother" Nature

Apparently there's been a issue with

Chicago’s weather

Forecast say it’ll be 68

With a 20% chance of rain but then

It snows in the middle

Of the day

winter wonderfest

Getting a headstart on covering

Up bloodstained streets

With frosted water droplets

Purifying sidewalks for

The next sacrificial


Mother Nature

Trying her best to scrub off

Pomegranate fruits colored

Concrete these strange fruits not growing

In summers streets she's

Seen to many of her produce

Expire quickly so preservation

Is her only way in

Keeping life fresh hence on why she’s

Cold but others see it

As she’s always in a

Bad mood

ask for sun and you’ll get rain

she's just reframing from complying to

Demand because bodies

Continuously feeds her soil roots

Become entangled in bones

Nothing else to do after witnessing

Massacre after massacre with the

Culprit getting away so she

Stays quiet behind gravel

And rocks climate change her only signs

Of communication listen carefully

You hear her screams

with every whistle

Her hands dirty from crimes she didn’t

Commit unstable she is,


Don’t you hear that……..that faint

begging for forgiveness…...that broken

Voice of a mother who failed her

Children not her fault

Intentionally but she couldn’t

Stop what was happen “im sorry” “ im sorry” in every Teardrop drop from

Heaven trying to raise

Her children from daisy

Covered field roses

The only vegetation to appear above dirt

Beds y cant she oversee her

Children in peace instead of

Pieced by battle wounds from

Pedestrian warfare that pierce

Skin why can't summer

Be how it use to b

Where life was as meaningful to


When we actually enjoyed “mother’s” natural

Warm welcoming presence rather

Than seasons becoming being put

On shuffle lives only matter when

Temps reach below 40

this wasnt

In her life plan out to

Birth out generations so

Quick so that they returned to their maker she

Just wanted what every other

Mother did….to die before her kids

Not the other way around but to us its

Just the circle of life...that’s how it works

Isn’t it?


Copyright 2016 Khalill Graham

This poem is about: 
My community


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