Powerless: Full Moon Monsoon or the New Normal?

Nineteen states besieged and battered,

eight million- plus left powerless.

Rescuers, first responders and reporters calling the shots,

a presidential race goes on and 49 babies born.

Without energy, without power, without clout,

we wait in the dark as cold settles in;

candles burning, milk slowly souring in a tepid fridge.

But not for that are we powerless!

or the dead metal boxes lying un-resuscitated on tables beside impotent outlets

but for silent screams that fall on deaf politician’s ears.

Save the suffering, slowly suffocating in deep shifting waters

where fallout settles and temperatures rise.

One degree more can take me to bed.

Should I be surprised that it alters our mother?

The wind screams and incites the water to battle.

Can you hear?

Born of this grit and wind and water rising as material from the material world,

will I need someone else to give me the news that I am dying or will I know?

And what about this place that raised me?

Do I dare to know what I know?

I feel the food that feeds or frets my cells,

remember the taste of clean air and free water.

It matters, does it not?

Powerless to stop the well-heeled gatekeepers

who pollute the skies, tarnish the food, and degrade the seeds.

They poison the livestock with hormones and wrong food and vile habitat;

poison our children nourished by that.

Powerless to protect ourselves from ourselves:

We paved this ghostly road away from home.

Guardians press back while others sniff at the folly of facing the rising seas.

Romney manufactures a benevolent twinkle for the viewers’ eyes;

Obama, you poor silly Don Quixote.

Don’t talk of climate change when we are homeless. Just ensure our minimum wage.

We are frightened of what we can see.

Keep us that way and we won’t notice the rising sea.

Powerless, running through the pitch and silent night, empty of commerce’s hum and roar,

noticed only by its absence.

Powerless to progress, powerless to return: Is this the rut we rest in?

There’s no glory in that.

By this candle’s light in the gloaming of disaster, in the wake of apocalypse,

there is nothing left but a reflecting pool.

Many miniscule choices of many people matter every minute.

This is the power, not flashy but magnificent.

We have choices and we do care.

Eyes adjust

to see in the dark.

re-posted on Rebelle Society, www.rebellesociety.com

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7 Comments

Filed under new age enlightenment, poetry, politcal action, social action, social commentary, Uncategorized, yoga

7 responses to “Powerless: Full Moon Monsoon or the New Normal?

  1. Lit match raised in the darkness as you recite.

    • Oh boy, I know that’s getting old by now but you’re likely making the best of it. I think people are crawling out of their skins without internet or phones or television, no light to read by and uncomfortable from the cold on top of it. Hang in. I’ll be thinking of you. I have so many friends and family members riding this out too.

  2. drbinder

    This might be the best thing I have read all year. No, wait. It is.

  3. Whoa.
    Will I need someone to give me the news that I am dying or will I know?
    Damn.
    Excellent.

    • Isn’t that a powerful quote? I didn’t say it you know, there’s a link to the fellow who did and he does work with the dying. We think it’s so hard to live but it seems it is also so hard to die. It’s a bit much to consider when all is well and the sun is shining and may all be well and the sun shine on us today.

      • Amen.
        Some would argue that the sun is always shining and that the weather is nothing more than a sophisticated illusion. Easy for me to say, however, since I live in the land of eternal sunshine.

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