Who We Are

By Abi Alperovich

Posted on November 1, 2025

Cover Image Title: Birds Falling in Pollution

Cover Image by: Meghan Zhang

Classification: Digital Artwork

Specifications: 8.5 X 11 inches, 300 dpi

Year: 2025

As dawn arises from its dusked blanket 

The stars fade and fall into the world 

Like dew drops, land on land, 

Little gems of light, shining stars using the sun to prove their luster 

Sapphire skies, dusted with cotton-like quartz

Icy breezes peering to see the 

Warm exhale of a breath.

Envy of such contentment, 

the wind streaks to disperse the fog

Each stream carrying dust and ash.

Dew drops dry and-

the day dismisses dancing clouds and-

instead keeps only one star in the sky

The wind is coward to the fiery eye above

Threatening to numb the cold it so travels with

Yet, the gray stream flows out

Laying the prairie in speckled flakes

(Like pepper on a warm soup for a cold day).

It has disappeared, yet so left -not itself- behind.

Into certain death the odds favor,

Staying in the shade is undue for any skill

Hermes strays from gambling such chances. 

For any god would choose to have certainty 

Than likely to be nothing but ash

As the warm air dries the grass,

And the sun slowly heads west, a journey that never ends 

The sapphire and quartz from not even hours ago

Turned to cool, pure topaz, swelling under the sun.

Bustling movement of cities of steel

Keep the air alive, breathing in smog

Constant noise, aloof to the wind

As the dark gray stream flows out of will 

Scurries the leaves and glides the squirrels 

From their eyes the sky is ground 

Streets and stoplights and buildings reaching the heavens ascend

Labor always works, when before labor rests

As a spotted dim stream skims the ground 

Asphalt and ash gathering around

The wind isn’t stealthy, sly, or curious 

The wind can’t be envious or cruel

But the wind wants what the people don't

To rest from its labor, but it can’t help it

To survive is not to live or thrive

Surviving is by no option of his own

The near black breeze flutters through the birds

Yet this time, they all fall down

The day retired and left citrus hues

The fruit of many colors dancing with the moon

Wind woke and began to fly again

Only this time it wasn’t wind

It was smog

He looked at his new body

Wondering why he woke up

Then he realized he was still wind

But he carried everything we left

Once obsidian was alive

And the massive marble moon 

Stayed somberly looking down

The wind was clear yet not

The coat of dark shields the debris

And the wind can move freely

Smoke is still stirring

Silence is accepted as coughs and sighs

All the fireflies of below turn down

The earth is dark, but not only from night

Night has simply put a sheath on himself 

Those fireflies below darken alone 

He peered around the wall

Envious of our contentment,

So he tries to disperse it once more

But the foggy exhale comes in quick waves as he passes

And the breaths stay, struggled, forced breaths

Now jealous of any breath at all he is

But instead of breaking the warmth

All he can do is stutter the sighs

He doesn’t know we were greedy, he doesn’t know we were cowards, and when we were finally fixing generations of loss

Only the grit in the, once smooth, wind was left for us 

We started to step up, the death died down

And no matter how hard we try, that we can’t fix now

Description:

This free verse poem references the ongoing pollution of the world. It follows the narrative of the wind as it passes through the city and past houses. I chose the wind because it’s a decently neutral observer in general. I think it is very important to talk about global pollution because we are ruining our home. No matter race, gender, ethnicity, or social class, we all depend on our world for everything. The poem shows a gradual shift in how the world is described.

[ Writing Editor: Anonymous. ]