OK – I’m putting the blog into hibernation for December – and prior to the general election. Large swathes of the ordinary
British working class public, voting for Boris Johnson, a man who openly
despises them, is more than I can stomach.
So – turning to the subject which should be
occupying our minds every minute of every day – the environment – I’ll leave
you with this thought, something I’ve pushed many times in my writing –
As we trash our planet like a bunch of rabid,
delinquent, spoiled brat teenagers whose parents have stupidly gone away and
left them in charge of an exquisite home full of priceless possessions, we
should remind ourselves that the significant species least likely to
survive or recover is us. Humans.
This idea is the driver for my dystopian
novella Zero One Zero Two (see ref in last week's post) and
the poem, below, is one which features in that story. (Yes I’ve chucked a bit of
poetry in a dystopian novella – get over it.) In this piece, in the penultimate
chapter, the main protagonist is considering what may be left of the earth.
Does
the Sun Still Shine
by
Amanda Baker
Does
the sun still shine
Do
rivers still dance
Do
breezes caress the trees
Does
an apple still blush on a branch somewhere
Do
flowers still flirt with bees
Does
a waterfall crash where nobody hears
Does
the Okavango delta still
Wash
with Africa’s tears
Do
elephant bones lie bleached and broken
Are
shorelines kissed by the sea
Are
dead cities shadowed with ghosts and regret
The
great whales just a memory
Is
there a footprint left by me
Does
a white moon glow where nobody sees
Could
cathedral sunsets
Still
bring me to my knees
Does
the kestrel cruise with a predator’s grace
While
a vole marks his shadow, beware
Are
the turrets and towers toppled and gone
Are
the Great Plains stripped and bare
Is
there anything there
Does
rippling heat flatten the desert dust
Where
scorpions arch and cacti pose
And
camels have wanderlust
Are
mountains still dappled by giddy cloud
Is
my memory only a dusty store
Pale
pretty pictures of paradise
Images
of things that are no more
An
empty room without a door
Our
plundering and ravaging bore malformed fruit
Are
the oceans and skies forlorn
Are
forests blind and mute
Or
Does
the sun still shine
Do
rivers still dance
Do
breezes caress the trees
Does
an apple still blush on a branch somewhere
Do
flowers still flirt with bees
Does
a waterfall crash where nobody hears
Does
the Okavango delta still
Wash
with Africa’s tears
*
Happy Christmas with an old doodle from 2013
See you in January 2020