A Hummingbird in the Throes of Climate Change

from the desk of g. pacheco

·

The language I carry 

in the bones of my wings

The blood I shed

for my country in Wars I did not fight

The nutrients I crave

while I feed on sweetened offerings


These small moments of stillness

Transcribe the music pulsing

In my sinews that so

Desperately want to perceive

a hopeful future

Ripped so violently from me


I exist

As a reminder

Of my ancestors

A memory

Of my sons and daughters

A fleeting thought

of what might Be.


My only joy is

stubborn persistence.

Can't stop, won't stop.


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