I am weary of all the fighting.
I am weary of all the frightening.
I am weary of feeling guilty.
I am weary of believing - deep inside -
that I am responsible for (all of) it.

My reliance on meal-ready foods,
hermetically sealed in shiny sheets, the
plastic utensils, plastic take-out containers,
plastic bags to hold the garbage, garbage
that adds fuel to the slow-burning fire.
And what is of sustenance to me is 
slowly leading to my own demise. I am 
planting the seeds of a new planetary
order. Yes, I am guilty of that.

Today we cut down the tree in our front yard.
Despite green leaves it was dead at the heart. 

This draft poem was written in response to prompts on Earth Day from Miz Quickly and NaPoWriMo.