Now that we are sequestered,
an entire globe aware
we are sharing a common fate,
which has always been the case,
now that we, so frightened
without our things,
know we are all mortal,
while grabbing our last meals
from the emptying shelves,
imagining our last suppers,
how we will spend
the final weeks of our lives,
Now that we are aware
that the gift of breath
we have always received from the trees
may not serve us --
Is it because we
relentlessly cut them down?
Now that Water,
who is one of the Immortals,
is dying at our hands,
but without planning
for Her last waves and tides,
is remaining Water
for whoever swims within her,
And now that Air,
another threatened Deity
is still holding whatever birds yet fly,
and Earth, Great Mother,
is continuing despite
all her open wounds,
is remaining Earth,
and Fire, Oh!
He will burn and burn
until every tree,
or the very sun, goes out,
Now that we have succumbed
to each other's downfall,
no difference,no differences,
and we, the ones who have done
such great harm, who tried
to rival the Gods
with all our weapons,
are taken down
by the most invisible and minute,
the very littlest one,
such is our common jeopardy,
our fate,
Now that we know we are mortal,
might we, for this just moment,
hold a broken prayer,
that our hearts open wide
and with such wisdom
that Life will pity us,
will restore the thousand beings,
and give us another
humbler round.
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Yes!!! Thank you. Been writing plague poems daily myself.
Love, Maya
Sent from my iPhone
Such compassion from this poem to us despite our errant ways. I hope the earth, air, fire, water feel the weight of your acknowledgement. I hope we all do. I do. Thank you. Sharon
Thank you dear Deena for so exquisitely putting into words the bigger, deeper truths of our planetary crisis
This is so absolutely perfect — the right words for the right moment. (And it’s the moment we’ve been waiting for, the moment we knew was coming, though we didn’t know what form, what manifestation would present itself). I too have been thinking in terms of us all being humbled, and perhaps returning to genuine gratitude for what we are being reminded really matters. Thank you, Deena, for giving voice to this terrifying and exhilarating moment. We must all become Italians, singing to each other from our balconies, opening our hearts to the Real through song and sustaining each other in our brokenness.
Thank you for this.
In love, Ansula Press Portland, OR
And crying together too … because your response brings tears.
Yes, the gift of this terror is that we do what we must be doing. Finally.
Thank you for this Deena. Your voice, your prayer for us all, gratefully received.
Thank you Deena. A long time in its process Mother will make sure we do the work. Painful to read so grateful for your voice.
Deepest gratitude, dearest Deena for your wise heartbroken words that show us a way to tend one another, all of us, and even respect the “most invisible and minute / the very littlest one” who brings us this great mysterious & difficult teaching.