flow
where her majesty once lay. Antique stills in a forsaken
museum display you proudly. Though today a deep lacuna; we together, step tenderly. If I could I would form
you again. Not for me. Unconditionally for you. You need complete
alterity, and I know, but although I try, complacency
grips me and I cannot begin.
Little
children in big padded coats, red woolen hats
and
matching gloves, climb your bare bolder face and
the sorrow
of your new tree line is their destination. Green
tree, green
recession pole, the distance between the recorded
epochs
is terrifying. Their laughter is the chorus of your
disappearance;
the muted aria of your bygone stream, once
a cool
blue rush from your maternal core. I take a seat on
the
valley rocks now naked, and they yearn once more for
your vestment. Conceal their shame. Their ghostly dream appears and you are too far to hear their cry.
Bring
the procrastinating global sovereign. Float him high to the
true regicide; “oh you, neglecters of
Kyoto.” Let your disturbing
eyes radiate, for fear grips the crown. “Would
he know where to put himself?” Your fragility can rupture
the pastel heart; those who find it easy to weep.
You are a beautiful nurturing ecosystem and
the life-blood of a dependent multitude.
Glaciers worldwide are entering Elysium, leaving behind the disconsolate.
You are a beautiful nurturing ecosystem and
the life-blood of a dependent multitude.
Glaciers worldwide are entering Elysium, leaving behind the disconsolate.
Do not
say, “goodbye” glacier. We refuse to
say, “goodbye glacier.” Drowned
in your empty valley we realise our way. A little child showed
us. A single red glove laying over a small rock. I smile and
bend down. “Mister, Mister, that is mine!” I offer it back to the
rightful owner. His fingers dance
inside and he races away to where your
cool blue still sustains.
inside and he races away to where your
cool blue still sustains.
(For the Fox Glacier, Westland National Park, New Zealand)
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