More like a vault -- you pull the handle out
and on the shelves: not a lot,
and what there is (a boiled potato
in a bag, a chicken carcass
under foil) looking dispirited,
drained, mugged. This is not
a place to go in hope or hunger.
But, just to the right of the middle
of the middle door shelf, on fire, a lit-from-within red,
heart red, sexual red, wet neon red,
shining red in their liquid, exotic,
aloof, slumming
in such company: a jar
of maraschino cherries. Three-quarters
full, fiery globes, like strippers
at a church social. Maraschino cherries, maraschino,
the only foreign word I knew. Not once
did I see these cherries employed: not
in a drink, nor on top
of a glob of ice cream,
or just pop one in your mouth. Not once.
The same jar there through an entire
childhood of dull dinners -- bald meat,
pocked peas and, see above,
boiled potatoes. Maybe
they came over from the old country,
family heirlooms, or were status symbols
bought with a piece of the first paycheck
from a sweatshop,
which beat the pig farm in Bohemia,
handed down from my grandparents
to my parents
to be someday mine,
then my child's?
They were beautiful
and, if I never ate one,
it was because I knew it might be missed
or because I knew it would not be replaced
and because you do not eat
that which rips your heart with joy.
Right now there are Tibetan Buddhist monks in a temple in the Himalayas
endlessly reciting mantras for the cessation of your suffering and for the
flourishing of your happiness.
Someone you haven’t met yet is already dreaming of adoring you.
Someone is writing a book that you will read in the next two years that will
change how you look at life.
Nuns in the Alps are in endless vigil, praying for the Holy Spirit to alight
the hearts of all of God’s children.
A farmer is looking at his organic crops and whispering, “nourish them.”
Someone wants to kiss you, to hold you, to make tea for you.
Someone is willing to lend you money, wants to know what your favorite food
is, and treat you to a movie.
Someone in your orbit has something immensely valuable to give you — for free.
Something is being invented this year that will change how your generation
lives, communicates, heals and passes on.
The next great song is being rehearsed.
Thousands of people are in yoga classes right now intentionally sending
light out from their heart chakras and wrapping it around the earth.
Millions of children are assuming that everything is amazing and will always
be that way.
Someone is in profound pain, and a few months from now, they’ll be thriving
like never before. From where they are, they just can’t see it .
Someone who is craving to be partnered, to be acknowledged, to arrive, will
get precisely what they want — and even more. And because that gift will be so
fantastical in it’s reach and sweetness, it will quite magically alter their
memory of angsty longing and render it all “So worth the wait.”
Someone has recently cracked open their joyous, genuine nature because they
did the hard work of hauling years of oppression off of their psyche — this
luminous juju is floating in the ether, and is accessible to you.
Someone just this second wished for world peace, in earnest.
Some civil servant is making sure that you get your mail, and your garbage
is picked up, that the trains are running on time, and that you are generally
safe.
Someone is dedicating their days to protecting your civil liberties and
clean drinking water.
Someone is regaining their sanity.
Someone is coming back from the dead.
Someone is genuinely forgiving the seemingly unforgivable.
Someone is curing the incurable.
Our Purpose in Poetry: Or, Earthrise Dedicated to Al Gore and The Climate Reality Project
On Christmas Eve, 1968, astronaut Bill Anders Snapped a photo of the earth As Apollo 8 orbited the moon.
Those three guys Were surprised To see from their eyes Our planet looked like an earthrise A blue orb hovering over the moon’s gray horizon, with deep oceans and silver skies.
It was our world’s first glance at itself Our first chance to see a shared reality, A declared stance and a commonality;
A glimpse into our planet’s mirror, And as threats drew nearer, Our own urgency became clearer, As we realize that we hold nothing dearer than this floating body we all call home.
We’ve known That we’re caught in the throes Of climactic changes some say Will just go away, While some simply pray To survive another day; For it is the obscure, the oppressed, the poor, Who when the disaster Is declared done, Still suffer more than anyone.
Climate change is the single greatest challenge of our time,
Of this, you’re certainly aware. It’s saddening, but I cannot spare you From knowing an inconvenient fact, because It’s getting the facts straight that gets us to act and not to wait.
So I tell you this not to scare you, But to prepare you, to dare you To dream a different reality,
Where despite disparities We all care to protect this world, This riddled blue marble, this little true marvel To muster the verve and the nerve To see how we can serve Our planet. You don’t need to be a politician To make it your mission to conserve, to protect, To preserve that one and only home That is ours, To use your unique power To give next generations the planet they deserve.
We are demonstrating, creating, advocating
We heed this inconvenient truth, because we need to be anything but lenient With the future of our youth.
And while this is a training, in sustaining the future of our planet, There is no rehearsal. The time is Now Now Now, Because the reversal of harm, And protection of a future so universal Should be anything but controversial.
So, earth, pale blue dot We will fail you not.
Just as we chose to go to the moon We know it’s never too soon To choose hope. We choose to do more than cope With climate change We choose to end it— We refuse to lose. Together we do this and more Not because it’s very easy or nice But because it is necessary, Because with every dawn we carry the weight of the fate of this celestial body orbiting a star. And as heavy as that weight sounded, it doesn’t hold us down, But it keeps us grounded, steady, ready, Because an environmental movement of this size Is simply another form of an earthrise.
To see it, close your eyes. Visualize that all of us leaders in this room and outside of these walls or in the halls, all of us changemakers are in a spacecraft, Floating like a silver raft in space, and we see the face of our planet anew. We relish the view; We witness its round green and brilliant blue, Which inspires us to ask deeply, wholly: What can we do? Open your eyes. Know that the future of this wise planet Lies right in sight: Right in all of us. Trust this earth uprising. All of us bring light to exciting solutions never tried before For it is our hope that implores us, at our uncompromising core, To keep rising up for an earth more than worth fighting for.
