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This poem is in response to the constant inundation of traumatic news that continues piling up and up and up. From the reports of methane in Arctic Lakes, threatening to double the Arctic’s greenhouse gas emissions by 2100, to Kavanaugh’s confirmation, to the genocide and ongoing human rights violations of Indigenous peoples, to the worsening refugee crisis, to our own country’s violence towards and imprisonment / encampment of black and brown children, to the most recent violent attempts by the administration to deny transgender and gender queer peoples through a 'fixed at birth' legal definition of gender. Holy devastation. This poem is my way of trying to stay alive and to keep showing up to our times.

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Prayer To Methane And Men

All

I

Want

Is

For

Everything

To

Go

Slow

So

Slow

So

Slow

That

It

Almost

Stops

So

Slow

We

Can

Feel

The

Weary

Turn

Of

The

Earth

And

Hear

Its

Whale

Song

Hear

Its

Wail

Song

So

Slow

And

Quiet

That

In

The

Spaces

In

The

Scorching

Silence

That

Emerges

We

Cannot

Help

But

Begin

To

Hear

The

Wail

Too

In

Our

Bones

The

Accumulation

Of

Heat

The

Accumulation

Of

Genocide

And

Gendercide

Their

Sum

Equaling

The

Storage

Of

Grief

In

Each

Body

Surely

If

We

Go

Slow

We

Would

Not

Survive

This

Depth

This

Despair

?

Surely

If

We

Were

To

Slow

Down

So

Much

That

We

Come

Into

Truth

We

Would

Die

At

The

Wet

Hands

Of

Our

Own

Heartrapes

I

Mean

Heartaches

I

Mean

Heartstakes

I

Mean

?

Our

Own

Histories

Our

Own

Actions

The

World

We

Come

Into

Over

And

Over

Only

To

Undo

Ourselves

There

Is

No

Back

Button

For

The

Planet

Or

For

The

Confirmation

Of

Men

Who

Assault

And

Kill

Bodies

And

Spirits

With

Their

Own

Buried

Self

Hatred

There

Is

No

Back

Button

And

There

Is

No

Pause

Button

There

Isn’t

Even

A

Fast

Forward

Button

Even

Though

The

Greenhouse

Gasses

Are

Accelerating

And

Our

Minds

Are

Accelerating

And

Our

Heart

Rates

Are

Accelerating

And

Our

Panic

Has

Sped

Away

With

Our

Sanity

Has

Fled

Away

With

Hope

And

Patience

After

All

The

Moments

Cannot

Stop

They

Can

Only

Cascade

Ahead

The

Rush

Of

Frantic

Human

Striving

Waterfall

Of

Reaching

For

Something

Better

Or

For

Control

Or

Both

Thinking

They

Are

The

Same

Thing

. . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

. . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . .

. . . .

. . .

. .

.

And

Even

If

You

Go

Further

Down

The

River

Further

Where

The

Water

Is

More

Still

Still

Still

The

Moments

Go

On

Trickle

Or

Drip

On

Like

The

Small

Water

Pebbles

On

Leaves

Falling

And

Even

If

They

Fall

Slowly

They

Still

Fall

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

If

There

Is

Anything

Left

To

Hope

For

I

Hope

To

Catch

Just

One

Droplet

In

My

Palm

Just

One

For

A

Moment

To

Say

I’m

Sorry

Please

Forgive

Me

Thank

You

I

Love

You

Right

Before

It

Slips

Away

Again

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