I have a cup of tea
And my morning cry
Hurricanes, floods, fires, earthquakes
Gold toilet impunity and missiles exploding
Whales splayed on beaches, 2600 shot dead already this year
We only have 18 years of carbon left my sister tells me
That means temperatures five or six degrees warmer
A woman leaves home to pick up her daughter from school
Arrives back to find her house gone
Dams break, women wade in breast-high floodwater
Brown skin, white skin, yellow, red and black
Donations coming in and not
Volunteers dig rubble with ungloved hands
I only came back to have a quick something to eat
I haven’t slept in three days
Distraught to get to the classroom only to uncover
All the children and their teacher dead
Teenagers scour village squares, pleading for donations
Sending supplies to where no help is given
One passerby cries My cousin is one of the missing
Helicopter scans island damage
No communication no water no electricity
It’ll take half a year to get it all back
No te preocupas, everyone has a generator messages a friend
But he left years ago
You don’t say There is no electricity to pump the gasoline
To another friend whose daughter is packing food, clothing, water, tents, you text
If he sold one of those gold toilets, that money would go a long way
She writes back If he sold all of them, that would pay for the wall
We laugh, and go back to crying
And my morning cry
Hurricanes, floods, fires, earthquakes
Gold toilet impunity and missiles exploding
Whales splayed on beaches, 2600 shot dead already this year
We only have 18 years of carbon left my sister tells me
That means temperatures five or six degrees warmer
A woman leaves home to pick up her daughter from school
Arrives back to find her house gone
Dams break, women wade in breast-high floodwater
Brown skin, white skin, yellow, red and black
Donations coming in and not
Volunteers dig rubble with ungloved hands
I only came back to have a quick something to eat
I haven’t slept in three days
Distraught to get to the classroom only to uncover
All the children and their teacher dead
Teenagers scour village squares, pleading for donations
Sending supplies to where no help is given
One passerby cries My cousin is one of the missing
Helicopter scans island damage
No communication no water no electricity
It’ll take half a year to get it all back
No te preocupas, everyone has a generator messages a friend
But he left years ago
You don’t say There is no electricity to pump the gasoline
To another friend whose daughter is packing food, clothing, water, tents, you text
If he sold one of those gold toilets, that money would go a long way
She writes back If he sold all of them, that would pay for the wall
We laugh, and go back to crying