What can I tell you about sorrow
that you don't already know -
you who have lost loved ones
to broken relationships, to illness,
to death, perhaps to suicide itself?
Surely, you should be writing this poem
yourself.
I have known losses all my life,
and have carried them until they told me
they needed to be set free
so they could journey on.
They told me: live your life for us,
who have moved on, who no longer
catch our breath at the way
the mist clings to the mountain slopes
in early morning, who can no longer walk
those long sandy beaches stretching to forever
(but maybe - just maybe - sometimes our spirits
swoop back, like eagles on the wing, to take a peek
at those beloved shores.)
My old eyes look out at a darkened world
the opposite of what this life should be.
There is sorrow, perhaps a fatalism, that humanity
learns everything the hard way and must
experience the trauma the way a baby
pokes his finger into the socket
to learn not to do it again.
Meanwhile, Life goes on. Each morning dawns.
Birds and whales make their spring migrations,
through all the difficulties humans have placed
in their path - whales washing up dead
of starvation on west coast shores, 50% of birds
now gone - disappeared as if they never were.
(And yet, my friend heard a marbeled murrelet
early this morning, which brought gladness to my heart.)
Life wants to live, and struggles to survive.
So what can I tell you about sorrow?
Only that our human sorrows are small, compared
to the sorrow we have inflicted on Mother Earth,
who weeps like human mothers do
at all that man has wrought.
21 grey whales have washed up this spring on west coast shores. They show signs of starvation. This year's super El Nino means warming seas which kill the krill and plankton they eat to survive. 50% of the world's birds are now gone. Insects too. And governments continue on their suicidal course of oil and "the economy", which will not save us when the support systems of the planet collapse. Especially with who is in charge in the US at the moment, impacting the whole world, who doesnt believe in anything but stuffing his pockets. I try not to be bitter. I focus on being grateful. But I could have done without the current situation, which is like a dystopian nightmare from which we can't awaken, because half the US government has turned into the Stepford Wives for love of a demented old king who cares for no one but himself.
Sherry, I have followed your writing for many years now. Over the years, I moved on from blogspot and my writing has changed form - so has my life. I have grown older and become a full adult of 38. I wandered onto this post of yours and was not expecting to find such arresting grief in it. I share your grief - both personal losses but also the loss of our shared home. The image of the malnourished whales breaks my heart. The lines, "They told me: live your life for us,
ReplyDeletewho have moved on, who no longer
catch our breath at the way
the mist clings to the mountain slopes
in early morning, who can no longer walk
those long sandy beaches stretching to forever
(but maybe - just maybe - sometimes our spirits
swoop back, like eagles on the wing, to take a peek
at those beloved shores.)" speak to me deeply. Perhaps all we can do is continue to grieve and continue, at the same time, to love this beautiful earth that we are so lucky to be walking, breathing, living and loving on. Much love from India.