The call is primeval
Its sounds far off, unbelonging
To its present ravaged environs
It permeates through and through
Through the tangle of invasives
Through black ribbons and walls
To the last few silent sentinels
A green desert surrounds us
Stripped off our fruits
Cut off from our neighbours
We continue languishing in this unreal world
The call rings through
Hoping to find an answer
And as ever
The waiting continues
Waiting for the last shadows to fall
Or for new hope to rise.
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