The evidence of it is everywhere, the abandoned artifacts of materials passed, the careless discard of another man’s trash. The signs of carelessness begin to mix with the landscape that they were abandoned in. The rusting bottle cap, and the missing shoe, the trash of all that we have been through. There was the party that involved a case of beer, and the degrading cooler that was always left here. The sand attempts to cover a pull tab, while the grass attempts to out grow a wooden palate trashed. The trees sway in the breeze, attempting to soak in the air that is thick and graying. A clump of of severed grass aids the eventual collapse of a fence never tended to. The cooler is beginning to split and peel back layers of plastic in an inevitable surrender to the power of the sun that is beating down on these silently growing trash mounds.
It was not the neglect of the current residents that aided to the creation of this island of forgotten trash, but the evidence is mounting against their seemingly innocent acts. The flies have discovered where they discard their food, the ants have a growing terrain they march through, the gnats are persistent in the clouds they form thicker than the ones that fill the sky.
The evidence is closing in on you and I.
The trees are stretching further away from this hell that man has created, they reach for clean air to breathe. The grass is growing in patchy and sparse, confused about what to sweep under its forgiving carpet.
The evidence is mounting right in front of me.
The birds are quiet and still, observing the destruction that kills the hunting ground on which they depend. Soon they too will move on from this man-made mountain of evidence that we couldn’t care less about. They will be the first to go when there is nothing left that will grow.
They will be the ones who notice that we have a built a solid case against us.
They will be the first to interrogate the land that we left so desolate.
They will be the first to claim that we saw the evidence building day after day.
This will be no surprise to you and me, who took a moment to observe what we abandoned so carelessly.
But how can the birds be expected to carry on through this?
How can we ask them to assemble this evidence?
Who will be the first to prosecute our neglect and abuse?