mass extinction times abound
species gone and going still
throw another lump
of carbon on the pyre
How to speak for the dead
when we never even noticed their living?
or our own for that matter
How to listen to those we chose not to see?
How to live fully when we do not know
how to die?
Blindly stumbling through the halls
of ‘plenty where that came from’
in the hope that bound us all
to inaction
That shimmering mirage
of a never to be future
That dangled carrot of anywhere but NOW
anything but THIS
We do not keen the loss of these species
do not feel their gone-ness in our bones
Do not sob at the thought of extinction
because if we were capable of such depth
they would not be gone
gone
as are we
who left the web long ago
forgetting who we were
and not even grieving that step away moment
elevating sapiens to some higher ground
Maslow’s pinnacle perhaps
One man’s heaven and all that
In our lostness and without a hint of irony
we created our own world wide web
a intertangle of virtual connection
No more communing around the council fires
Here it is that I pen my inkless words
with a sadness that won’t pass
a stain on my being now
a grief too vast to hold
Over at Earthweal Brendan asks us:
What are the meanings of living in complex and interweaving ecosystem? How are we dependent on it, and what changes when a part of it is lost? For this challenge, weave extinction tales. Make them a manifesto, a myth, a meander or a hymn. Ponder not only the loss of a particular lifeform but intimate web it has become a ghost in.
Paul Scribbles 
we watch with great sorrow, those of us who do. and that vast grief spans us. ~
So true.
To say it that way — losst – is to hiss an emptiness which echoes through the poem. It’s an accusation which writes the human epitaph. How do we write this grief? What ink is sufficient? All we can do is try. Thanks Paul – Brendan
It was an invitation that called me. Thank You for that.
throw another lump
of carbon on the pyre – oh that line! The imagery, the unsaid…wow!
Thank You.
“A grief too vast to hold.” I feel that, Paul. A beautiful and sad poem of our times. Lovely to read you, so happy you stopped by earthweal.
Good to see you Sherry. Sad it is but how to write anything else at the moment?
I hear you.
Thanks for saying so.
🌿
‘How to speak for the dead
when we never even noticed their living?’
Our blindness and inconsideration baffle me. You have summed up the tragedy of the situation so well.
Thanks for the read Ingrid. Intermittent visitor I am x