a poem called Hieroglyphic Stairway:

It’s 3:23 in the morning and
I’m awake
because my great great
grandchildren won’t let me sleep.
My great great,
grandchildren ask me in
dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?
surely you did something when the seasons started failing
as the mammals, reptiles and
birds were all dying?
did you fill the streets with
protest when democracy was stolen?
what did you do
once you knew?