snow comes down through the trees
in slow motion, weaving between
thin twisted brown fingers of sleeping
oaks, maples, a stunted white birch
haphazard vectors of nuclear winter,
or just the promise, the silent promise
the peacefulness of the scene is
almost enough to make the hell of
human greed and vitriol disappear
it’s almost enough to made the ruddy
American face of smiling cruelty fade
to soft white infinity of a silent earth
people fear the young who protest
people fear the old who bloviate
people fear the end of the world
because it is the end of their world
but a million silent forests with nothing
but sleeping oaks, maples, a stunted
white birch, this feral kingdom far greater
than any human triumph or story
as Kerouac said, “one man practicing
kindness in the wilderness is worth
all the temples this world pulls”
the only greater thing is a wilderness
with no Man at all, no cell tower humming
sending off hashtags and useless videos
in the simplest terms, we are not great
enough to warrant infinity
in the simplest terms, our end
is but a single snowflake falling so
slowly through the brown fingers
of the trees, and we may fight and cry
for what is right, but in time, evil
will gather up in its arms
the wealthy possessions of a lifetime
and press the red button out of spite
don’t let this make you sad
or lose sight of the goodness you possess
if you’re going to die, die with decency
and remember—
white snowflakes will fall
and have always fallen, and fall
even now
no matter what else may befall
this humanity, this Earth
--James Duncan
No comments:
Post a Comment