tell me about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.
tell me about the 414 million pieces of plastic that washed ashore on
a tiny island.
tell me that included one million shoes.
tell me about the microplastic in the Marianna trench.
tell me about the bottle caps inside the albatross.
tell me about the dead whales.
tell me about that glow in the early sky.
tell me it is a false dawn.
tell me the sun is already dead.
tell me how they buried it, draped in a plastic shroud.
tell me how this story ends.
tell me how it began.
.
.
.
once upon a time, on a slow-moving sphere of
sparkling blue and emerald green, a light…
Ah, how sad. And you make it seem inevitable … Inexorable. And after such a beautiful beginning, too. One could read your lovely finale as saying that life may go on, on a new planet. Hopefully with a different result.
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The same planet…if we can just get our act together… hopefully! Thanks, Rosemary.
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Such powerful writing. A false dawn is a frightening thought.
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Thank you, Sara.
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The day will come when the only light we have left is in one story, and we have no one to tell it to. Until then, let’s tell all the true stories to those who are listening. As you do. As you do.
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Thank you, Susan. I know a poem here and there has no impact at all.. but one has to be hopeful and I suppose that’s what poetry is in the end – hope and light.
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Wonderful piece of writing, hard to swallow, harder to comprehend our own foolishness. Love that last line and how it brings it all back to that first light…
Elizabeth
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Thanks so much, Elizabeth.
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… a sobering read.
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Thank you, Helen.
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” the sun is already dead.
tell me how they buried it, draped in a plastic shroud.”
This is heartwrenching
Much 💥love
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Thanks so much, Gillena.
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The last two lines are made of tears. Yes we are heading towards that 😦
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Thank you, Sumana. Things are topsy turvy- everywhere it appears…
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Sadly the only ones that seem to worry about are those with the least power. Sadly greed rules the world and greed is blind.
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That is unfortunately the bitter truth- the decision makers need to start worrying- much! Thanks, Robin.
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A powerful piece!
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Thank you, Ayala.
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It began with arrogance, we called it progress – it will end when we end. Strong write here!
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So true.. Thanks, Rob.
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In my book of burning down you’re asking all the right questions. All of this fits snugly into our poetry — like its a body bag …
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That’s all there will be – body bags made of poetry filled with body parts of the mistakes we have made as a species… but I do hope it doesn’t come to that. I think the kids will take on this fight and maybe even win it. Thanks, Brendan.
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I don’t think they can– too much distraction. Maybe the cortex has been littered with too much plastic, too.
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It is too horrible to think that there is no hope to correct both earth systems and ecological breakdown… I’m going to hold on to a tiny bit of hope for a little while longer … because of the kids!
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We always knew what would happen to plastic… it will never leave us…
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True! We knew..and we know…and we still carry on..
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The repetition in this poem is inspired, Rajani, and so is the way it ends with ‘once upon a time, on a slow-moving sphere of
sparkling blue and emerald green, a light…’
A chilling prediction.
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Thank you, Kim. Both on climate and ecological systems break down…there is already so much scientific work… and the predictions are getting more and more dire…it is quite scary.
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Oh my goodness. This poem just slays me. So good, so true, that it hurts.
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Thank you, Sherry.
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Man is capable of all that evil but he is also capable of good
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Well I hope that good side surfaces real soon so we can all fix this and save our planet!!! Thanks, Larry.
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This is such a powerful rendition, Rajani!
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Thank you, Sanaa.
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Hard to say I “liked” this, but…
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I know exactly what you mean!
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Oh the stories the roaches will tell about us after we’re all gone.
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Ha ha… they must be waiting eagerly to have it all to themselves!
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Ah, you capture the horror in such a factual manner, while also relegating to a space of return back to how it all began. These lines are spot on in particular: “tell me it is a false dawn./tell me the sun is already dead”.
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Thanks Anmol… the more one reads about it, the more horrifying it gets…
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Very relevant and challenging poem.
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Thanks so much.
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