By Emma Bowar
How much shall we pay for our hubris?
Salty air cracks smiling lips, cerulean blue
Floods the eye, bodies lay warm in the crispy sand,
and jokes are tossed out to the sea: lost in endless waves,
forgotten in lifelong friendship.
Plastic 21st century cemetery: coke cans and straws,
Coke cans and straws, coke cans and straws.
Water moves differently under the burden of toxicity. Rainbows fade,
Majesty is bleached, innocents choke – they struggle, they die.
Don’t touch your face! There’s blood on your hands!
Beautified by oblong shadows and stained glass sun,
Pilgrims – mouths whispering, blessing, blessing –
March forth to light candles. Faces melt like wax, and misery
Is washed away by the cold sigh of the Holy Spirit.
Devilish flames thunder over the hills of paradise,
Ancient wood burns fast, flesh burns faster
-agonized screams flail on pink lips –
baptized by fire, charred earth can be reborn, but can we?
To love an addict must one learn to love the addiction?
Blushing cheeks and toothy grins flush sweet faces,
Burgundy wine splashes white table cloths,
The evening grows old and family once again grows young,
With fullness and chatter and laughter.
The heart of the Earth beats slower, slower, slower:
Precious trees fall so that cattle may graze.
Carnivorous hunger can never be satiated:
At the butcher”s all blood looks the same.
Hold your breath! Hold your breath! Hold your breath!
Golden clouds splatter the canvas,
The sun murmurs a soft hello to the moon,
A spring breeze whispers of jasmine and honey,
As nervous young lovers kiss.
Cities sweat chemicals, healthy lungs shutter,
Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh.
The sky becomes a heavy ink blot stain,
And artists forget how to paint the world in color.
Mirror mirror on the wall, is there a future to dream of?
Delicate little baby, snuggled against her mother’s chest.
Singing darling, innocent lullabies: swaying in the nursery,
Sweet dreams, sweet dreams, sweet dreams.
In a mother’s arms, all is all right.
Darwin could not have predicted such arrogant blunders.
The wild falls silent as the beasts succumb.
Pigeons, pigeons, pigeons everywhere.
Mother Earth becomes a forgotten memory.
No one will save the world but us.
Emma Bowar is from west Texas, and first became involved with XR during the protests organized last April. She believes the quickest way to anywhere is a straight line: the only way to overcome the climate crisis is head on, and together. Her guiding principle is that no one can do everything, but everyone can do something.