Bloodroot - a story for 2020 in image and word

 

I

the way it pierces through

 

melting dusty pink to peapod green

leaf emerges embracing its bud

shielding from early spring chill

 

delicate grace

petals splaying open, quiet and soft

yin opening to yellow, soaking up the sun

 

leaves of snapping turtle skin

undulating matte splendor

feigning toughness, but succumbing to sunburn

 

how long the winter

cradled by Pachamama

awaiting the perfect moment

 

II

our winter has been long,

not since October

 

our winter has been persisting

deepening since

 

since social media — learn to fix a broken pencil, and watch a murder —

    network internet — connect with anyone, and lose connection —

        neoliberal economics — strive for efficiency, and lose your soul —

            nuclear destruction — win the battle, lose the war —

                internal combustion engine

— go faster, risk everything, everyone —

 

           colonialism — explore, and ruin what you find —

           imagined superiority — disillusion, disconnection —

 

domination —a fool’s errand.

 

                       

 

III

skin as thin as peach

flower ephemeral as a first crush

 

passing in the silence of night

giving way to the next

yet staying with you forever

 

forest duff grit

—perseverance—

generations linked together

built upon each    

—other—

 

pushing up through the mulch pile

no regard for what stands in the way

driving

            step by step

out of cool, dark repose

 

not through garbage, but through fertilizer,

            fuel

 

IV

brought to our knees

all our weaknesses laid bare

 

injustice to the earth

each other

—brother and sister all

plant, animal, fungus, bacteria, mineral, wind, water,

            and spirit

 

bleeding from our roots

we cry out in communal agony

 

“don’t let us return to normal!”

 

Let us begin again,

as in spring.

 

Towards the sun,

towards a new day.

A better, more just, more beautiful,

more loving way.       

 

V

we rise

 

My Baby

What if I never had a baby.

If I never had a baby, I would never be pregnant

Never feel that joining of me and another.

Never feel that kick from the inside.

I might never fall that deeply in love at first sight, or even before.

If I never had a baby, she would never have her first steps.

She would never make a twisted face when she first tastes a lemon.

She would never howl in the darkness of midnight

or fall bare-bottomed in the summer grass.

If I never had a baby, she would never buy a computer.

She wouldn’t work at her first job and save up to buy her first car.

My baby would never fly in a plane and travel to other countries.

She would never cut down a tree to build her home or buy oil to heat it.

She would never leave the lights on or step on an ant.

If I never had a baby, she would never be an annual birth statistic

or add to our population.

She would never consume resources or have a footprint.

She would never have to struggle and suffer in a future of climate change.

My baby would never endanger the wilderness and take the lives of others.

If I never have a baby, I would be a little sad, but try to be a little more proud.

If I never had a baby, it would benefit all living things,

even if I know she would be beautiful.