the black deadly slick has reached the fragile barrier islands of the louisiana coast. dead oiled birds. dead oiled sea turtles. more dead marine life on the way to the beaches from florida to texas.
and a british petroleum official opines today that the attempt to cut off the volcanic oil spewing out 5000 feet down on the ocean floor probably won't work.
and governor rick hair-for-brains blames it on an act of God. probably because he thinks Big Oil IS God. and a gusher from the center of the earth has ended the underwater world as we knew it in the Gulf, and possibly everywhere else, as it keeps spreading because they don't know how to stop it. it's a bigger deal than you think.maybe a nuclear bomb could seal it, said one engineer. really.
and the president in whom we placed our hope has acted in such appalling ways that it is heart-stopping to understand why he would have lifted the 20-year moratorium on new off-shore drilling, now only tentatively held up because of this little business accident. unspeakable. the words are gone from my mouth.
what is this feeling of dread in the background of my soul?
where are all of the people of the earth who care, like me?
they are probably rioting somewhere by the thousands,
but will never be reported in the msm because...
it's not good for big business,
and big b owns all of it. owns us. the people.
where is the poetry of love now?
it is in the body of an oily black dead sea turtle.
the kind of love that slicks across the mind
and oozes into the nostrils
i find myself looking around for something
to assuage my guilt for not being wonder woman
and not flying around the world fast enough
to spin time backwards
and then un-do the wrong
and save this damn world
all of this talent, and i can't think of anything to say or do
nothing even to distract myself from the madness
of going through the motions of do-gooding while screaming,
helpless to yank out even one hair on the head of the bad guys
i see my own hands on the steering wheel
driving with the top down to the next gig
a singalong for an alzheimer group
sorta like roaring up to the gates of hell
with a can of paint to freshen things up a bit
2 comments:
I don't even know what to say to this...
And I look at my children sometimes and offer a wordless apology that I brought them into such a world and that they will bear the brunt of the greed and the evil that are wrought in my name.
i know this post is especially dark, but i feel deeply about exactly the point you make--we are supposed to leave this world better than the way we found it, and my generation has failed by almost every measure. perhaps, since we're not through yet, we'll find redemption in a cure for cancer, or aids, or homelessness, or hunger...but our stewardship of the resources of this earth is abominable, and we're still going in the wrong direction.
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