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Found on Facebook without attribution

It will happen
In a time of blueberries and corn
and the dead returning
as hummingbirds

as a morning sun glows white
through a thick blanket
of pale grey lit clouds
and much will have stopped

A pandemic unrest
will bring hesitation
Can I touch you?

Can I touch you?

And even bigger questions
that won’t go away
pressing you for answers
that offer no solace

How then shall I live?
Where do I die?
Where are my grandchildren?
What have we done?

And you won’t know if you
should pick up your knitting
or read more about ice melting
or clean your kitchen

or tend to your garden
or speak with your ancestors
or lie on the earth and cry
or write a love letter

© Poetess Rachelle Lamb 💗

*

…in a flood situation, it is only when the water reaches people’s hips that it becomes possible for them to swim. Before that, with the water at our ankles or knees, it is only possible to walk, or to wade. In other words, we might only be able to learn to swim — that is, to exist differently — once we have no other choice. But in the meantime, we can prepare by learning to open ourselves up to the teachings of the water, as well as the teachings of those who have been swimming for their lives against multiple currents of colonial violence. Indeed, what those of us in low-intensity struggles in the Global North (and the North of the Global South) call social and ecological collapse is already an everyday reality for many Indigenous people in high-intensity (also high risk and high stakes) struggles. These communities are swimming against the same colonial violence that subsidizes and sustains the institutions, comforts and securities that most of us in low-intensity struggle fight to maintain, even as the water levels continue to rise in our own and other contexts. — decolonialfutures.net

*

Our inability to see the problem is the problem. Only when the water is so high our feet no longer touch the ground will we even notice we have a problem, and by then it may be too late. Fortunately, there are those with eagle eyes who see the disaster bearing down on us. They’ve seen it for decades. They not only see and feel it, they are telling us what’s coming. We’re just not listening. We’re too preoccupied with the details of our survival or our comforts.

We’re deaf to the screams of agony coming from nature around us. Disappearing insects? Who cares? We don’t need all those wild animals and plants. Killing is business as usual, it’s recreation, it’s fun even.

The seeds of this way of thinking go back to the inception of our culture, growing to its inevitable cataclysmic conclusion. We are the generation to experience the logical outcome. It’s up to us to address the faulty foundations of our vision of the web of living beings. If enough of us can put aside the cruelty we were taught and discover our common and intertwined roots in the matrix, maybe humans can stop destroying the world.

We have yet to discover love and how it weaves the fabric of existence. We have yet to notice how our belief in separation condemns us to an everlasting struggle for survival right up to the day we die. America is a big player on this stage, from its grotesque military hypertrophy, to its disastrous treatment of its soil and food, to its failures of education and predatory business ethos.

Collapse is inevitable and probably the only thing that will initiate change that means anything. If this pandemic doesn’t bring definitive change, there will be another one and another. The way humans are currently living on the planet ensures it.

Again, we are the human beings alive now. We must have signed up for this. Our responsibility is to develop vision and somehow offer it to the world.

Written by

I occasionally write fiction and also about creativity, loving, language learning and travel. I’m a longtime painter and reader.

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