Life in a Fast Lane

To be honest, we looked so pathetic. A raggedly line of people Not more than fifteen Standing, disheveled By the side of the busy city street Holding placards Asking not to cut down trees As around us dust swirled, Remains of the huge trees lay The uprooted roots like Splayed innards of a roadkill.

We said, ‘look, the trees are our heritage’. We asked, ‘how dare you cut what you did not plant?’ We cried, ‘how can this cool shade cast a shadow On your way to progress?’

Cars and bikes honked us to the brim of the ditches Where once the roots had embraced the earth. From behind the tinted glass They looked at us briefly, mocking Forgetting us in the next instant.

They say the trees have to be cut For single lanes to grow into four lanes. Later it may grow into six or more. Trees, then paddy fields Hills, then mountainsides Ponds, then streams - Earth will be savaged They will build more roads, faster lanes Express highways, super highways In the hope they can reach faster - When, actually they are only Distancing themselves From the earth.