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Emerald

*context: this is a piece I wrote in a poem-form while taking an apocalypse course*


In the Midwest, trains derailed leaving no tracks

In the East, tornados have swept away homes

In the Southeast, hurricanes have eaten up countless cities

In the Northwest, earthquakes swallowed whoever lived on a faultline

In the West, forest fires burned towns to a crisp leaving no sign of a livable future


Not a blank canvas

Not a fresh start

Not a new beginning

It’s called the finishing

Of North America


South of the equator is safe

Where natural resources are vast

Countries of the dictator

Whose inhabitants are typically outcast


Venezuela’s mountains protect

Colombia’s bananas provide sustenance

Brazil’s jungles hydrate

Argentina’s pastures provide protein


With no vegetation

Filled with frustration

Rising agitation

In complete desperation


North Americans migrate

To where seeds vegetate

Fertile soil

Countries with fields of oil


No borders to restrict entry

Entrance without pageantry

All are welcome

But first the journey must be overcome


Travel is by foot

Water is in hand

Lands are dried up

People are fed up


Belief is your best friend

Despair your enemy

Believe that what is now ashy and filled with debris

Will be lush green with birds flying free


Just like the avis

You, too, will grow wings

Free of destruction

Safe from eruption


The new land invites you

But peace is to be protected

Only the pure will survive

And, eventually, thrive




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