T he landscape
losing its gild
mottles
in gunmetal grays
long gone greens
bare blacked sterling
nothing for the eye to swoon
nor in which
the soul to find solace
the poet’s words of warning
had fallen for years
on deaf ears
now nothing
to inspire grand verse
just barren rolling regret
stripped of lush mystery
color drained
jagged n’poisonous
fractured storm clouds
laced with the toxins
of human excess
and lethal impatience
churn ominously
in huddling menace
brightened breezes
that in the once-time
sizzled in the aspens
rolled the conifers
in velvet undulation
rattled the oaken forests
build and bulge
buffeted into angry fronts
seethingly murderous
faced with nothing
to stem the rage
nor to buffer
or discourage
the thrashing fury
howl and growl
into brittling winds
strafing gales
razing tempests
hollowed trunks
like spindled husks
ripped mercilessly from the earth
this world
that’s tumbling towards nothingness
is parched dust-blown emptiness
achingly void
my heart
shudders for the deep chill
of shadow
mourning eden’s devastation
scorching sun
pierces the dirt-broiling stir
that bites and stings
stumbling along dry cracked terrain
blurring watery eyes
chafing coarsen’d skin
that scalds and blisters
would that it rain
drown the lands
that I might
turn my face to the sky
flood my wooden mouth
charred by hunger
with drenching waters
of suspended thirst
to douse the cruel fire
of my spirit
that longs for
the whisper of winds
in canopies high above
now long forgotten
longs for the plush
of a high-mountain meadow
now scattered in tumbling debris
crying in cruel winds
never
never will it happen
ignorant words
which should never have been spoken
our covenant with nature
was badly broken
much too late
we realized the arrogance
of belief
that lacked intention
of assumption
that lacked conviction
as through tears
we watched our trees
slowly die
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: earthweal
For summing the gathering dark of environmental catastrophe, I think you’ve said it all here. A “broken covenant” becomes the overwhelming text of the future. Poets of our generation may not be able to sing past that — poets of every future generation may not, either — But Whitman sang past the Civil War knowing it was collapsing his future, and I hope our next poets will find voice and heart for theirs, too, with a verse that sustains. Thanks for joining in –
You are most welcome Brendan. I was drawn to the concept of broken covenant, as a statement to the misdirected concept that humans should hold dominion over nature, hell, we are so out of step with nature, out of balance, we are no way qualified.
I really feel this poem, Rob. Our words falling on deaf ears, the devastation of Eden…….sigh. If human life survives, they will find in our poems that we saw only too clearly what was happening, yet are seemingly helpless against the way leaders govern, and capitalism gobbles everything. Sigh. Well said.
My thought is Sherry, I write it, if for no other reason, than to perhaps open the eyes of someone or ones — who may not see through to the truth. I would rather put it out there, than to remain mute. Expressing it also keeps me focused and alert to the situation my friend… 🙂