The earth is dying. Hope is eroding, at best. Faith
is sustainable and will persist as long as the last
glacier resists the ice-melt. God was our Plan B.
For when it all became too much. Or we were the
cosmic Plan B. For when it all seemed too little.
All that is broken now, with the wild weather,
with the disappearing creatures, with the
invading seas. We reneged on our deal with
the planet. Defaulted on Plan B. A hungry bird
swoops low towards a pair of yellow-eyed fish.
Changes its mind and settles on a thirsty branch.
Eating the last two fish cannot be the answer. A
strange fox watches from the shadows. Cursing
the wasteland, he waits for the bird to drop.
THOUGHT PURGE 
And after the default, I see it will be who is last to be alive.
LikeLike
Scary thought, isn’t it… but we’re seeing the horrible effects of climate change here already – so many extreme weather events and huge consequences…
LikeLike
Lesson for the universe: Be proud of Plan A and stick with too little. Excess of brain function results in this nightmare, all the more horrid for the abundance of life it destroys. We live now in this certainty, and learn to write of our grief in coal-powered luminance. This poem unscrolls calmly onto this terrible shore we now inhabit, each line measuring what it means to live in awfulness.
LikeLike
Thank you, Brendan. And “coal-powered luminance” is right… what a mess the whole energy equation is at right now.
LikeLike
Very bleak, very true.
LikeLike
Thank you…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Despair is very likely the most realistic state – and yet, I feel we must all keep doing whatever little we can, just in case. Meanwhile, I can enjoy living in the moment, savouring what beauties life still offers. (But then, I am old. It might be much harder for the young to do that wholeheartedly.)
LikeLike
Yeah, to remain hopeful makes the most sense, but the frustration is still there at some level… 😦
LikeLike
Great imagery here – and a touch of surrealism – the strange fox waiting on the last bird…I thought of the Argentinian poet Jules `Supervielle poem Prophecy – https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/52400/prophecy-56d230d6d5ef4
LikeLike
Thanks for pointing me to that poem, Peter. It gave me goosebumps… not just because I imagined a similar wasteland (though I wish I could articulate it as well as he did) but his poem was a few decades ago and we’re still in that same place.. waiting for dystopia without fixing the problem…Oh dear!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This poem reflects my personal struggle, contemplating my existence on Planet Earth. I cannot refute the forces of destruction that humanity has unleashed but my soul still clings to the joy of being that stirs when a hummingbird flits in front of my face. I struggle to focus on this joy, not to sink into helpless despair. I find the simple act of listening to and creating the poetry of words helps keep me from drowning, inspires me with the truth that others are also intent on creating beauty in their lives. Plan A? Plan B? What is Plan me? I was given the gift of life, what do I choose to do with it?
LikeLike
Plan Me… that’s a beautiful way to put it. Am so glad that you are holding on to the little joys- nature, poetry – all keep the hope alive.
LikeLike
We defaulted on doing our part, for sure. It is a dismal thing, to face how awry the planet is. In 100 years, we managed to ruin it all.
LikeLike
True… what a mess too!! Thanks Sherry.
LikeLike
Straight in the face honesty. The world is ending. It’s official.
LikeLike
Thank you. Seems that way, doesn’t it with all the extreme weather we seem to be having and what that is doing to bio-diversity and the food chain. And yet…
LikeLike
June Marathon: #27… just three more… is it ok to say “just”… ???
LikeLike