They are gone now, the silver millions, their molten motion stilled. Now the bears starve, raiding camps and cabins for scraps. Now eagles hunger, haggling with crows and gulls for bits of flesh, their numbers fading. All the salmon are gone. Up and down the coast the villages lie empty. No fish, no wages, no food, no hope. All the fish gone. In despair, fingers point, blame is shouted, all too late. And I, God help me, I think I caught the last fish. Forgive us, Lord, we just wouldn’t listen.
"Gone" displayed with the permission of the author Jerry Riches
- Posted Wednesday, December 10, 2003 8:02:11 AM.
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