Blue ice,
your other-worldly beauty
sparked our dreams,
drew explorers to you -
the romantic Far North -
frozen-solid tundra,
sled dogs joyously yip-yip-yipping
across the miles,
sled riders wrapped in layers of fur
against the glacial cold.
your other-worldly beauty
sparked our dreams,
drew explorers to you -
the romantic Far North -
frozen-solid tundra,
sled dogs joyously yip-yip-yipping
across the miles,
sled riders wrapped in layers of fur
against the glacial cold.
People of the reindeer, the Sami,
lived a hard life, yet a happy one,
the only life they knew;
the snow, crystalline beauty,
the hard-packed, treacherous ice,
icebergs standing tall against the sky,
their blue mysterious caverns
glowing under the moon.
Blue, mysterious caverns,
and crevasses where one false step
could end your life.
lived a hard life, yet a happy one,
the only life they knew;
the snow, crystalline beauty,
the hard-packed, treacherous ice,
icebergs standing tall against the sky,
their blue mysterious caverns
glowing under the moon.
Blue, mysterious caverns,
and crevasses where one false step
could end your life.
The majesty of the frozen north,
known best by those who
made their lives upon your snowy breast:
polar bears, caribou, seals,
the Arctic fox, and wolves,
a sad procession, now, of endangered
almost-ghosts, hungering
and dying, because we are too many,
and our appetites more fierce.
known best by those who
made their lives upon your snowy breast:
polar bears, caribou, seals,
the Arctic fox, and wolves,
a sad procession, now, of endangered
almost-ghosts, hungering
and dying, because we are too many,
and our appetites more fierce.
In only 50 years,
our carbon-tainted fingers
found you:
warming seas gobbling your icy shores,
habitations crumbling,
spongy taiga, melting tundra,
turning soggy underfoot,
revealing skeletons buried for
a thousand years.
our carbon-tainted fingers
found you:
warming seas gobbling your icy shores,
habitations crumbling,
spongy taiga, melting tundra,
turning soggy underfoot,
revealing skeletons buried for
a thousand years.
And your blue ice,
is now crumbling into the sea
and melting underfoot,
sleds replaced by skidoos
roaring fast to outrun the melt,
and boat tours urge Come see the ice
before it's
going going gone.
Making money from devastation
is what our economy thrives upon.
(Those of us with hearts
will never buy the con.)
is now crumbling into the sea
and melting underfoot,
sleds replaced by skidoos
roaring fast to outrun the melt,
and boat tours urge Come see the ice
before it's
going going gone.
Making money from devastation
is what our economy thrives upon.
(Those of us with hearts
will never buy the con.)
Polar bear,
I see you on the edge
of your small floe,
spying your dinner too far
across the way,
and yet the hunger is still there,
as the pounds melt away,
so you stagger weakly into town,
confused, wondering where
the life you knew
has vanished to.
I see you on the edge
of your small floe,
spying your dinner too far
across the way,
and yet the hunger is still there,
as the pounds melt away,
so you stagger weakly into town,
confused, wondering where
the life you knew
has vanished to.
The seas warm year by year;
the oceans rise.
We sorrow at being the cause
of your demise.
the oceans rise.
We sorrow at being the cause
of your demise.
A precious blue for all the majesty, and vanishing. Who will we be without it and how can we find the words without the hardest clarity? So well done Sherry, thanks for the challenge too.
ReplyDeleteThat polar bear image, haunting as it was, still wasn't enough to move us into action. Wonder what we think we need to see!
ReplyDelete"The majesty of the frozen north,
ReplyDeleteknown best by those who
made their lives upon your snowy breast:" and captured here in its blue harsh glory--O, Sherry! What a strong and powerful lament!
Such a mournful poem, Sherry. And that picture about does me in!
ReplyDeleteDeeply sad and very true. Well said. When we lose the sea ice, we may be well and truly lost.
ReplyDeleteThe blue ice is beautiful! You speak with a tongue of understanding and compassion. I feel that lone polar bear speaking to me. It has a story, a song.
ReplyDeleteThe almost-ghosts...we are among them too, I believe, and far more deserving than all that we have doomed.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem, I often feel like the polar bear myself wondering where the life I knew vanished...
ReplyDelete