The Great Barrier Grieves

The Great Barrier grieves beneath the waves, in silence, cold and blue,
Her gardens fade to ashen ghosts where once the colours grew.
She whispers through the currents strong, a voice so faint, so thin,
As corals bleach and fish depart – she mourns for what has been.

Once, she shimmered, wild and free, a kingdom deep and bright,
Where emerald reefs and sapphire tides would dance with golden light.
The turtles swam through tunnels wide, the dolphins spun with glee,
The ancient homes of living things stretched far as eyes could see.

But now her hands are brittle bones, her heart is choking fast,
For poisoned tides and human greed have shattered what should last.
The waters burn, the warmth too much, the salt is thick with pain,
And where the coral cities thrived, now emptiness remains.

She did not wither on her own, nor fall by nature’s hand,
She did not beg for towers tall to claim her sacred sand.
She did not call for drills to hum, for oil to stain the waves,
She did not ask for nets to drag her children to their graves.

No, this was not the course of fate, nor time’s unyielding pull,
But men who measured out her worth in profits sharp and cruel.
They carved her beauty into graphs, into reports and charts,
They placed a price upon her life, then tore her world apart.

They let the smokestacks kiss the sky, they filled the air with lies,
They fed the Earth with chemicals and watched as species died.
And when she cried, they turned away, ignored her every plea,
As if a dying reef was just a problem for the sea.

The clownfish drifts in hollow halls, his home a faded shell,
The manta rays glide slow and weak through a warming hell.
The giant clams have lost their glow, their rainbow edges pale,
And sharks, like ghosts, now roam alone through currents sick and stale.

Where once the whales would breach and sing, their voices long and low,
Now silence grips the shattered reef where nothing dares to grow.
The seahorses cling tight to wrecks, their tails around despair,
The starfish count the ones who’ve left, but none are left to care.

The Great Barrier grieves, she weeps, she fights, yet time runs thin,
For every summer sears her wounds and deepens what’s within.
And though she calls to those on land, her warnings tossed like waves,
The ones who hold her fate in hands just dig more shallow graves.

They call it “natural,” say “reefs die and new ones always grow,”
They shrug, they smile, they print their charts that tell us what we know.
But nothing thrives where poison spills, where heat melts every cell,
And science speaks, the elders warn – the future’s hard to sell.

The governments sign their hollow deals, they promise “change” and “care,”
Yet still the coal ships stalk the waves, still toxins taint the air.
They speak of beauty, pledge to save, yet sign the papers fast,
That auction off her lungs and bones – how long will this farce last?

How long before the reef is gone, a memory in stone?
A photograph, a distant tale, a place the world has known?
How long before the children ask, “What was it like before?”
And all we have are echoes left of all that was no more?

The Great Barrier grieves, but still she breathes, though shallow now and weak,
Her currents churn, her waters rise, her voice is hoarse but speaks.
She reaches through the storm and tide, she stretches to the shore,
She begs for time, for hope, for change – to be ignored no more.

For though she’s wounded, though she aches, her heart still beats below,
And if we dare to heal her scars, she might yet start to grow.
If hands once used to break and steal now reach to mend and heal,
Perhaps the tides might turn again, perhaps the wounds might seal.

The poison poured into the waves can one day clear and fade,
The coral ghosts might bloom again if reparations made.
The turtles might yet swim once more through forests made of light,
The whales may sing their songs again, their voices full and bright.

But this will take more than a speech, more than a fleeting trend,
More than a ribbon or a post, more than what they pretend.
It takes revolt, it takes unrest, it takes the truth out loud,
It takes the ones who care to rise, unyielding, fierce, and proud.

The Great Barrier grieves, and so she should, but will she grieve alone?
Or will we stand, demand her life, demand the world atone?
Will we defend what still remains, protect the life still there?
Or will we sit upon the shore and simply watch, and stare?

The sky turns dark, the oceans boil, the storm is drawing near,
The clock is ticking faster now – the choice is sharp and clear.
To fight, to rage, to rise, to act, to break the chains of greed,
Or lose the last of all she holds – the future left to bleed.

And so, she grieves, and so she fights, and so she waits to see,
If those who broke her will repair or let her cease to be.

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