Arrival Of A Brother

It is what I see all around. You do not notice it; you may not take note of it should you have the ability. Yet, it is everywhere. I walked up Broadway, as I do, and saw a lonesome, starving calla beside the recycle bin and a garbage can. Wilted, it cried out to me to feed it, which I did. It now sits on the HVAC by my window, recovering. It perked itself up even since last night, having received water in soil and spray on the leaves. But even as I walked before I rescued my arboreal friend I saw more of it. The corpse of a squirrel and a flattened rat greeted me as I walked. There were several small trees that reached out for assistance, drying and wilting. Many berries, smeared onto the pavement, spread abundance of juice, nourishment and seeds onto the walkway before me. I regularly see birds and sometimes cats, once a racoon, spread out dead on the street. This situation would not bother so much me if I perceived that life grew more abundant than the dead. The milkweed that feeds the Monarchs grows lonely and unperturbed near the railroad tracks. Thousands of fish wash up upon the shores. You understand what I mean. It is everywhere, but it is coming less often, since less life arises. It never stops.

And it is you.