Monday, August 4, 2008

...though it doesn't love me

*a way-serious dramatic follow-up to #5 in the previous post*

You can love me if you want to. Call me beautiful. I don’t mind. Write poems about me. Write this thing about me. It doesn’t effect me. You do not have it within your power to flatter me. Or to bother me. Certainly not to hurt me. Certainly not to destroy me. And yet I can destroy you. And I have, just as I gave birth to you. Nothing happens unless I allow it. I converse with the cosmos. It rocks me and stirs me. You simply walk along my edges. Immerse your feet, your body within me. Ride on top of me in your fancy machines. You’re proud of them aren’t you? So proud of everything you’ve done. You think you rule the world. But you don’t. I do. It’s nice that you worry about me. It’s nice that you sign petitions, wear t-shirts, march down the streets in numbers, all to save me, protect me. But let’s get real about this. I don’t need you to save me. I’ve crushed your cities. I’ve subsumed you again and again. I’ve broken your proud civilizations down into tiny bits, leaving nothing but the sand I sift as I please. I’ve carried your warships. I’ve carried your slaveships. I’ve carried every kind of foolishness you can come up with, though sometimes I do feel the need to remind you. I sink your proud armadas, throw your history off course, without any significant effort. Really, look at me. I’m the same. Do you really think I’m perturbed by your oil sludge, your barrels of toxic waste, your pesticides, garbage, trillions of tiny plastic fragments? Do you think it bothers me that you melt my ice caps? They’ll be back in no time. I was here long before I birthed you, and I will be here as I am now, rocking with the universe, gradually breaking down and reforming whatever I touch, long after there is anyone left to remember you. So don’t flatter yourself in thinking you can or need to save me. Save yourselves. You’re poisoning yourselves. You’re killing yourselves. You have tiny moments in time compared to my infinitude, and you’re wasting them destroying yourselves and everything you touch. But I am not threatened. I am not dying. I am beyond your comprehension. I am the ocean.


*recycled (in line, kinda, with its vague ecological message) from the Radiant Retreat, Maya Tulum, Mexico, March 2008 ("recycled" meaning I wrote it a while ago for a different purpose. Thanks to Gypsy at Heart for pointing out the confusion I was sowing)*

7 comments:

Jane said...

Excellent post!

SandyCarlson said...

Having spent the past week in the ocean, I can totally dig this! Great stuff here.

Thanks for stopping by my blog.

Grumpus said...

Bible and sword, at first I thought you were talking about some sort of giant alloy robot from the spacetime continuum that has been hiding behind the Ozarks or something. But no, just the ocean. I can breathe again.

Gypsy at Heart said...

You wrote this? I researched Maya Tulum as I was curious when you said it was recycled from this retreat in Maya Tulum. If you did, it is very good. Piques the interest since I had no idea where it was going until I realized whose voice I was hearing. I liked this very much. Thank you for sharing.

Bird said...

Ok, that had me sit up in my seat and cheer. Thanks for telling it like it is. (Makes me feel that my nature-porn blogging is waaay too tame, reminds me how I wanted it to be)

Douchewatcher said...

velvet underground, one of my favorite bands...

what is your fav song...

mine is either heroin or sweet jane

-emdee
www.douchewatcher.com

Lydia said...

Same question as gypsy at heart...
This piece is so excellent. I appreciate the author, whoever that might be.
(I found you via that cat wearing a helmet who wanted some blogs to read over at blogcatalog.)