This poem is a weeping wild woman who hears
the cries of Mother Earth and her creatures.
This poem is melting ice, starving polar bears,
burning forests, warming seas, warring armies.
This poem searches earth and sky, looking for hope
for a suffering planet.
This poem is a wild woman who hears
the call of Raven, howl of wolf,
wails of distress from every corner of the world.
What is she to do, with all of this knowing,
when the cries of the suffering
are not being heard
are not being heard
are not being heard?
How many times can her beating heart break
against the certain knowledge that
the planet she loves is burning itself up?
This poem is watching the poles melt,
the polar bears grow thin and weak,
sitting on melting ice floes with their young,
wandering into villages in search of food,
looking at us, in need of help
that does not come.
This poem hears the warning that is not being heeded:
notmuchtimenotmuchtimenotmuchtime
as mad leaders and corporate greed responds:
"Money rules."
This poem sadly reflects:
No jobs, no money, no life, on a dead planet.
This poem cannot contain its grief,
so sometimes it spills over.
This poem does not want to end
without offering a note of hope.
It finds it in the beauty of sky and landscape,
in the shine in children's eyes
- those children who need and deserve a future -
and in Mother Earth's steadfastness,
as she follows her endless cycle of rebirth,
giving and giving, season after season,
in spite of us.
This poem says:
Money rules, but the spirit liberates,
and lives in hope that we can evolve
from our destructive, warring ways,
and return all creatures to the Garden.
This poem is a weeping wild woman
in need of hope.
This poem is all that is melting
and dying and burning,
in need of our help. (Not much time.)
This poem is a prayer of vanishing faith,
living in a wasteland of distress,
that refuses to give up,
This poem is a prayer of vanishing faith,
living in a wasteland of distress,
that refuses to give up,
because she loves this earth so well.
Well. Not an uplifting poem. It is a hard week, given the wildfires in Australia and the 450 MILLION wild creatures that have perished. I am sharing this with Brendan's open link at Earthweal. I have another to share on Monday for his prompt: Wildfires. Sigh. Sadly, there is no end of material to inspire our responses. Thank you, Brendan, for giving us a space to share our feelings about the crisis we are in, that too many world leaders REFUSE to address.
Well. Not an uplifting poem. It is a hard week, given the wildfires in Australia and the 450 MILLION wild creatures that have perished. I am sharing this with Brendan's open link at Earthweal. I have another to share on Monday for his prompt: Wildfires. Sigh. Sadly, there is no end of material to inspire our responses. Thank you, Brendan, for giving us a space to share our feelings about the crisis we are in, that too many world leaders REFUSE to address.
This poem used Hannah Gosselin's Boomerang Metaphor Poem format, one of my favourites.
When I look around me at all the beauty, I simply can't believe that humankind will allow all of this to be destroyed. I hope a million Wild Women will run for office everywhere and turn this sinking ship around. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez would get my vote in a heartbeat.
This poem does not want to end
ReplyDeletewithout offering a note of hope.
We all long for a note of hope, Sherry, but every day brings dire news of social madness, while the world burns.
Whether or not hope is justified (and my own mood is very dark) still we must do what we can, and try to get those in power to listen and act.
ReplyDeletenotmuchtime is absolutely right - and the failure of the madrid summit is proof that the action does not match the urgency and perhaps we have indeed passed a tipping point or two.
ReplyDeleteI so appreciate finding this poem at the inaugural posting forum at earthweal, its grief is also its possibility. Very hard to carry such a heart into a world changing this way, but if we are at best damaged poets, then we can be wounded healers in a burning world. Wild women have so much to sing of what is still here, for now!
ReplyDeleteBushfires in Australia devastate rare and enchanting wildlife as 'permanently wet' forests burn for first time. It will not return. They were remnants of Gondwana. So heartbreaking. Your poem makes us hope against hope.
ReplyDeleteThank you for thinking of Australia during this crisis. A Canadian poet is more concerned than our elected leaders (not by me !)
ReplyDeleteLove your words. Love the message and I love Weeping Wild Women who need to unite!! I agree, given the chance I would vote for Ocasio-Cortez in a heartbeat. Frightened right-wingers have tried to denigrate her but have failed. She's too smart for them.
ReplyDeleteWeeping is all we can do, as if tears could put out fires, or resurrect the lost...yet it seems the least we can offer for what is happening now. Your last stanza says it all, eloquently. I join you in wondering how we will ever lift our heavy hearts, or the heavier burden of our responsibilities as a species to reverse, or at least ameliorate, what we've done
ReplyDeleteSherry, I want to be positive for all Australians (whether two or 4 legged, reptile or feathered), but I'm failing. Feel the anger building up, inside of me, towards those corporations and politicians that are exploiting Australia for their own bank accounts. How does one manage to maintain a positive emotional balance, while our beds are literally bedding, to quote Midnight Oil.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is so much more than a poem. It's a voice that needs to be heard.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is a poem of truth and concern and while things look bleak I still try to be optimistic. It is hard some days.
This poem should be raised from the rooftops everywhere because the cries of the suffering are not being heard, are not being heard, are not being heard. Oh please keep writing Sherry and thank you
ReplyDeleteThis poem is very sad!! It is really hard to begin the new year with such devastation in abundance. There is so little good news...the melting, the dying, the killing, and the year has just begun!
ReplyDelete