Mourn for the perennial harbingers of the seasons
Canadian geese no longer migrate
They have become opportunists
Finding sustenance in our ersatz ‘brave new world’
Mourn the loss of their evocative calls as they floated above us in graceful formations
Mourn as their implicit promise of nature’s renewal dies
We blame them for fouling this monument to expediency and greed
We liquidate them for our crimes
Habitat loss, pollution, global warming
We compound our depredations by arrogantly casting off our sacred mantle as guardians of the earth
Mourn for the future generations betrayed
This is the darkest poem I have written. Driving home the other day, I saw a group of Canadian geese foraging on a traffic island. The geese reminded me of my childhood. I can still picture the almost endless skeins of geese flying in formation across the autumn skies. They stirred my child's imagination with visions of exotic places and the turning of the seasons. Every year I waited in the sure knowledge that they would appear. Their glorious winged migration is no more. It deeply saddens me that we have squandered our connection to the rhythms of the earth.
ReplyDelete