Who Wins the Human Race


Who wins the human race
and what are we running for anyway?
The race seems so important.
Time passes, and most find no time to smell the flowers.
Nor do they notice the bird and its plight
after the oil seeps into the ocean.
There is the race to clean it up
before it does too much damage, how much is too much?
So-who wins in the human race?
Shall a tree never have a say as to its longevity,
or must they always give way to concrete and asphalt?
Is this the definition of being civilized-
to butcher and alter nature wherever the race leads?
How long will Mother Earth allow us to
impregnate her with bombs of hate before she coughs
and they explode?
"The race is to the swift.," someone said,
but what's the prize?

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    This Poems Story

    I've been married over fifty-five years. We raised three daughters and one son. While they were growing up I earned bachelor's and master's degrees in music. Great joy comes from family, which has grown to twenty-one grandchildren, eighteen great-grandchildren and two more on the way. I enjoy singing, composing music, and writing poetry. While raising our children we were privileged to be the guardians of two Navajo Indian boys. We learned of the Indians' connection with nature, about how we should respect Mother Earth. This poem was inspired by their reverence for nature and my hopes for earth's future.