CHARRING
When we cut down a forest,
we also kill its air.
And something in our lungs, too.
When we hunt down a bird,
We execute a dream
which lives on after our awakening.
When we hunt a deer,
a star is charred on a man’s forehead.
Life is a Poem
CHARRING
When we cut down a forest,
we also kill its air.
And something in our lungs, too.
When we hunt down a bird,
We execute a dream
which lives on after our awakening.
When we hunt a deer,
a star is charred on a man’s forehead.
Libros Libertad 