Tuesday, March 22, 2011


Tropical Depression
                                                                        By Ann Carolan
Driving wind and rain
Across plains of shallow gulf waters
Recently bared by low tide; now swept, revealing mud inches below
Flats beside saw grass rising into low brush

Once haven for tall cedars and spreading live oak,
Ancient, hundreds of years, of slow growing creation
            Cut down.
Invasive species pushes out native plants
Like invading Europeans displacing indigenous tribes
Armed with righteousness false
In truth, not understanding earth’s hidden secrets

Rather, out of tune,

Consequences to humans, to wildlife, to ecosystems
Taming life
Yet to every life
            Now threatened
                        Living in terror
Of greenhouse effect, melting ice caps
Of bombs;
Of weaponry

Mad men seeking power
Follow instinctual trek of hunters
Now better-armed
Tribes of modern men invent more weapons,
            more killing fields
To protect the money god.
Driven by strange doctrines

Yet, gentler, gatherer tribes farm, nurture, grow.
Propagate the earth haven.
Sent from heaven, stewards of creation
Follow the WAY of peace, harmony,
            in tune with nature
A gentle people inherit the earth

In the End.

1 comment:

ihmk&zenm said...

A courageous, gorgeous poem plumbed deep from your understanding, compassionate heart aware of the suffering of all things gentle. Thank you - kate&mike