Vast, that is how my denizens call to me: 
a vastness sometimes filled, sometimes empty,
I have not forgotten these days  
when I ignore, those who need my greenery,
my clean air, my mineral-coated heart
to thrive where bombs echo
and lives blast to places renamed nowhere.

Do not remind me of what we are not now

but I still call to you to resist the wind, 
the rough seas of churn, 
believe in me when I gift you
the continuing seasons where fruit grazes the ground.
You can still see me through the haze
and hear all the good that remains, for hope is: 

To be taken by the sparrow’s song.