The Forgotten

Every day she would raise her arms towards the forgotten ones, clamoring for forgiveness for the incomprehensible unconsciousness of her own kind. Screaming in desperation, she felt and realized we had forgotten our house, and so also ourselves./ After unending days trying with no success to listen to the lessons brought by the Earth, the cold of disillusion took hold of her body, and the total lack of hope turned into tears, falling slowly into the fertile soil of that unique place./ And it was in this moment of sharp pain and hopeless tight chest, that she finally became one with the elements around her, finally leading those ancient, sentient and wise trees to bow towards her, to speak about the things that had to be said, an unforgettable voice from those she thought to have no voice…/ But was it already too late?/
José Ramos
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