Empty Pockets

 

Qualicum Beach

An oceanside RV park
in Parksville, Vancouver Island

This week, the ocean roared,  huge waves

swallowing whole beaches, right up into

RV parks and private lawns.

"It's happening," I thought. They said

it would be fifteen years until

the water level along the shores

would rise.

On this Island, Parksville beaches flooded.

On the mainland, the seawall and Kitsilano beach

disappeared under the waves.

The news keeps floating the fantasy

that these extreme weather events

are each one-time occurrences.

After each flood, people begin mopping up,

as if the only possibility we know

is this one step at a time, one day at a time

moving forward
through accelerating crisis.

Every living thing is imbued

with its own determination

to survive
its circumstances.

We are reaching into empty pockets,

the poet said.

Yet in spite of rising seas,

and melting ice floes,

in spite of landslides

and floods that swallow whole towns,

hope finds us. We hold fast

to the belief that, despite our ennui

and stubborn denial,
there is still time,

all evidence to the contrary,

to unite and find a way

to save this melting 

and imploding world.

Inspired by Some Tomorrow by Maya Stein. The italicized phrase is hers.