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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #1696732
Trying to stop waste form coming into Idaho with my pen.
The plume of steam drifts on
and the sirens are a distant echo.
Left behind are the barren trees.
In spring where no leaves will grow.
Within a year the plant has closed.
Many families have fled.
The waste and contamination is removed.
To Idaho it's fed.
Mr. D. O.E. tells the Idahoans.
That this is safe and properly stored.
But only the small child's eyes do see.
And his pleas are all but ignored.
As more contaminated waste is delivered.
The birds will soon begin to fly away.
The animals will sense the danger.
The aquifer will begin to decay.
The once rich farmlands will grow still.
The livestock will abort their young.
Spring will come but nothing will change.
the destruction of Idaho has begun.
The families will finally see.
That what the D.O.E. said was harmless.
Was only a ploy to convince Idaho.
It's better a less populated state be farm less.
The families will try to leave.
But their property will not sale.
Some will leave all their dreams behind.
But others will have a sadder tale.
They believed years ago.
That the waste was safe as the D.O.E. said.
But now not just their livestock suffers.
It is their children that will dread.
Within a few decades there is more disease.
A higher rate of cancer will come.
The people will ask the question why?
The answer is held in the waste drum.
No amount of jobs are worth.
Destroying the environment we live in.
No amount of weapons will protect us.
If we destroy our land; no one will win.
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