Writing Prompt No. 80
They said the sunset was God kissing the world goodnight.
I don’t believe in God. All I saw were the most wonderful colours every evening. Sometimes they’re filtered, softened by delicate cloud. Sometimes blocked by a thick white mass. Sometimes when the sky is clear the colours look like a wash of watercolour.
Whenever I see this I wonder how it is the world continues to fight.
I read once that it would take just fifty years for the earth to recover, to grow through and over all the empty buildings, concrete roadways and excavated ground. When I look at the weeds growing through the cracks in the pavement I can see that this must be true.
It isn’t enough to collect our plastic in a bin and put it out week by week. It’s not enough to think that this small deed will solve all the problems.
I look and watch my children growing and questioning and wanting all the stuff that we can buy them. And honestly? It’s exhausting the explaining, arguing, the laying down of rules. But it has to start somewhere. The beginning for they will come for us eventually. When they’re tired of all the rubbish. It will be bloody. Make no mistake. More bloody than other wars fought. The thin blue line around us can no longer help us help ourselves. It can no longer protect us.
When you feel that unusual cool breeze on a warm moonlit night. Close your eyes tight for they are coming. They are coming. They are coming.
Feeling brave? Want to share your own version? ‘Let it go’ in the comments below.