Last night on the television news,

I saw a koala crawl through a burnt forest

and sit on the side of a road

where a group of cyclists were resting.

A cyclist offered his water bottle to the koala.

The furry little fellow crept closer

and allowed the cyclist to give him a drink,

and everyone laughed

to see something so cute, so close.

And yet,

all I could think of

was how scared

and thirsty

and desperate

and lonely

that koala must be

to go so close to a human,

and I wondered if the koala knew

who caused the forest to burn,

who chopped down the trees,

who dried up the waterholes,

and who stole their future.