The Beach

Gasping for air as it washes onto the shore

escaping the living hell of endless plastic and scrap,

knowing that it will never stop if we’re still here.

It can only hope for a change…

 a change in the everlasting system controlled by us.

The soft snug sand is covered by the plaguing plastic,

like a blanket of trash over a bed of ocean

Disguising as food it chokes birds and fish to death,

hear the panicked flapping of wings as it struggles to breathe

Industrialised lands’ tsunami of sewage washing onto beaches

Colouring our oceans, a burned ocean of brown still,

the waves, a slow constant beat soothing the anxious,

unfazed by all the bad we’ve done giving us peace and tranquillity,

why do we do this to our pathways to peace?