Wednesday, May 5, 2010
somewhere South, the earth bleeds out
It really is difficult to comprehend,
from the plains of Kansas,
what it's like for 50,000 gallons of oil to bleed out
and up from the ocean floor today.
So, I look at the field of wheat and
try to imagine gummed-up beach sand.
I see the red-tail hawk overhead and
try to picture the gull, with oil soaked feathers,
unable to fly.
I see the white clouds coasting above the prairie and
try to see the thick smoke of oil fires
hanging over the Gulf.
I see the farmer planting corn and
try to understand the hope of the fisherman
whose boat blackens in the harbor.
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Eric, I would like to call this a lovely piece; instead, I weep in my heart in considering the truth of it all. One gallon or 50,000 gallons or the harsh reality of at least 210,000 gallons of oily death gushing forth every day from this wound -- any and all of it is more than the seas and her children can bare, and much, much more than the collective soul of humanity can justify.
ReplyDeletethank you. my, the contrasts.
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