The old dog's heart remembers being tied out
in the cold on a chain, hungry and miserable,
and gives gratitude and devotion to the one
who rescued him and
gave him a home.
The mother whale remembers the calf who died,
and how she carried her, in grief, for seventeen days
on her nose, unable to let her go, till finally
her baby fell away.*
I remember, too.
The creatures of the world remember
when life was less difficult, when habitat
and food were plentiful, when human
and non-human beings lived together
in harmony. They grieve. Across this
battle-scarred and warring world,
this world of corporate greed and inhumanity,
they grieve.
The human heart grieves too. We look out
at a world divided, without peace, millions
of refugees adrift with no safe place to go,
at governments enriching themselves
and impoverishing their citizens.
We remember a small orphaned calf,
swimming bravely alone through the sea,
till she was seen no more.
We grieve.
But the heart also remembers childhood
in a simpler time. It remembers marching
for civil rights, for human rights,
for womens' rights, for indigenous rights,
to stop the war, to stop gun violence,
to object to police violence because
Black Lives Matter.
And now we will have to
march again for those same rights
being taken away
in a world gone far astray.
It remembers those we loved and cared for
as they grew, and the ones who didn't
make it through. It remembers homes
loved and lost and does not mind the cost
because, for those golden years,
it lived in joy - tramping a wind-tossed shore
with a big black wolf - watching the sun
go down at the edge of the sea -
giving one's heart
to the wild world and its wonder -
and those memories
will never go asunder.
*Update: This same mother whale, Tahlequah, who carried her dead calf on her nose for seventeen days and a thousand miles in 2018, in grief, was seen New Year's day, 2025, carrying another dead calf on her nose, telling we humans: See? See what you have done to the ocean and the earth, because you are so many and take so much?
The Indigenous people where I live remember a time when they and the natural world lived in harmony, before colonization. Their culture still adheres to their traditional knowledge and wisdom. How horrified they must be at what we have done to their ancestral gardens.
It seems I have to resign myself to grief in order to bear the coming years. It is hard to write a happy poem any more. But I will keep trying. Baby whales dying is very hard for me.
My heart is also remembering the poet Sarah Connor, who passed away December 27. Sarah was well known in the poetry community, contributing to earthweal and to dVerse Poets Pub. She had a shining spirit and she will be missed.
for Mary's prompt at What's Going On - What the Heart Remembers.
I am so sorry about the second baby whale being dead now too. Oh that poor mother whale must be heartsick. I do like the stanza about the old dog being rescued by a caring owner...what a wonderful feeling for both owner and dog!
ReplyDeleteThis is such sad news. How much more must this grieving mother endure? My heartaches.
ReplyDeleteAlso, sad to learn about Sarah she was a gifted poet.
Try to stay strong my friend...do not extinguish the flames of hope...
I can't believe Tahlequah lost another baby and carried it around...that really is devastating. We take too much, you're right, and give so little back. It is terribly hard to write happy poems. So sorry to hear about Sarah.
ReplyDeleteI resonate with your grieving heart Sherry. These days are so hard to live through. A little good news : I discovered for myself a new bird, hariyal that came to forage in a tree that nobody planted just under my nose. Today I gave the feathered thing a space in my poem. I thank mother nature for this joy. Sumana.
ReplyDeleteSo sorry to learn about Sarah's passing away. Sumana
ReplyDeleteI am crying because you say in detail--in beautiful detail--what I meant to say. Your heart opened wider today to take in our activist past and observer present. Wow!
ReplyDeleteI love how this poem unfurls and like the glimmer of brightness in the ending
ReplyDeleteA wonderful poem, Sherry, and thank you for the update on Tahlequah, so sad that she lost another calf, and for remembering Sarah, whose memorial service is next Monday. I will be attending the live stream as Devon is a bit too far for me to get to.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry to hear that the whale calf disappeared. What a sad tale that was and how very sad it is to hear of Sarah's passing. I have often thought of her after Kim past on the news of her illness. Your poem speaks to the heartfelt losses we have all experienced on the Earth during these turbulent times. I totally agree with you - wonder lights the way forward. Suzanne - Wayfaring - Wordpress blog
ReplyDelete(((((((((((Sherry)))))))))
ReplyDeleteOh, there is so much pain, so much we want to forget. The mother whale breaks my heart. I am thankful for memories that hold me up when all I want to do is fall.
ReplyDeleteI almost wish I didn't know about the second baby calf. I am finding it painful
ReplyDeleteto live in this world, and very, very sad.
Beautiful poem, Sherry.
I am, too, Sara. It is hard to bear all the suffering and craziness.
DeleteThis moved me to tears, Sherry. What a broken world, each loss the harder to bear and not give in to despair! Sarah's memorial service did her great honor, and though I did not know her as long and well as some, I felt her loss to her family and friends so deeply. Hearing about the whale losing a second calf and seen grieving on New Year's Day is heartbreaking, Sherry. But if that "big black wolf" has taught you anything, he's taught you hope, and a love that hangs on despite the odds.
ReplyDelete