There have been a lot of scary news stories of late, things I could talk about relative to climate concerns. In fact I’m feeling rather overwhelmed by this wealth of potential topics. Which do I cover first? How do I not fall into despair? That both my dogs are facing major medical issues right now is not helping.
But, in looking through my files, I found the following poem that seems to offer a small bit of comfort. I figure, maybe I’m not the only one who needs it?
And yes, I happen to be the author, so I can confirm that the reference to a large population was meant to imply all the environmental problems that go with a large and resource-hungry human population, including climate change.
September 23, and it’s been a day for dirges.
Nuni, my friend’s small white cat, felled by fleas
lies dead beneath a heart-shaped row of stones
while Kendra’s dog plays host to tumors,
and Kofi Annan invokes the specter of a world 9 billion strong
I don’t know what will become of us.
I don’t know what blood
stains the momentum of our innocence.
there must be half a dozen PhD’s in this room tonight
and just as many guitars.
These are people who should know better
than to seek comfort in laughter, drink, and song
but these are also people who know we do not know
Joni Mitchell, Dave Carter, Bob Dylan,
voices thrown in familiar elegy,
the scientists invoke the sacred
the tapping foot becomes the thumping shaman’s drum.
Though rage and grief and fear
may be implicit,
this yellow room is safe tonight.
If the Earth has a temple, we sing its hymns
and offer the ground our local beer libations
with goofy, rag-tag grace.
In this puddle of life and light and laughter
in the exposed and urban night
this open, objective eye offers
its care-worn, fierce