Celebrating Earth Day & Climate Justice Through Poetry

Thank you to all who have participated in Climate Justice Month's week of poetry, and especially those who have shared on our blog posting! Please continue to join us in writing, sharing and discussing climate justice through poetry, whether through sharing something you've written yourself or a poem you find inspiring. Your comments will help inform the poetry reading and conversation night hosted by the UU Young Adults for Climate Justice on April 25th, 5:00-7:00 PM Pacific.

Here are two poems that were submitted to Commit2Respond by email that we would like to uplift:

Our Earth
by Paula Cole Jones

What are you doing for our Earth?
Are you concerned about her fate?
Are you quick to help take care of her
or do you often wait?
 windmill
 sculpture of hand with plastic bag caught on it

 

Do you pick up where it’s needed
and throw your trash away?
Do you remember to act responsibly
each and every day?

Do you appreciate Earth’s beauty
and learn what it’s about?
Do you look around to see her gifts
each day when you go out?
 picture of bananas and cherries at a market
 butterfly Do you help to plan her gardens
so you’re closer to what it means
to be a creature of this world
it’s more wondrous than it seems.
To grow, and eat, and breathe the air
and drink water from rivers and streams,
to walk, and run, and also play
among browns and blues, and greens.
 children walking and running down a street filled with colorful houses and green plants
 picture of two people looking out at a mountain landscape from the valley Do you think when the day is over
at the setting of the sun
that we must cherish the gift of life
on this Earth, our only one.

 sunset  Picture of the Earth from space - from NASA



By Rev. Maria Cristina Vlassidis © April 19, 2016

I remember

Araucaria trees

Andes mountains

Copihue flowers

Condor wings

Southern rivers

King crabs

Pacific ocean

Black clay

Red dust

I

Am

The

Mourning

Glory

The

Weeping

Willow

The

Hollow

Trunk

The

Damned

River

The

Flooded

Indigenous

Communities

Paying

The price

For

Lighting

The

Big

City

While

They live

In

The dark

While

They

Lose

Their

Homes

While

Their

Children

Die

Without

The

Blessing

Of

The

Shade

Of the

Pehuen

Tree

We remember

The green

Forests

The rushing

Rivers

The

Jumping sea bass

This

Is how

We lose

Our homes:

They forget.

Before

We

Were human

We were

Tree

Mountain

River

Flower

Llama

Condor

Ocean wave

Black clay

Red dust…

I remember.

---------------------

Please share more poetry with us in the comments section.


Showing 2 reactions

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  • commented 2016-04-22 19:00:21 -0400
    The Playground
    By Betty Scott

    In advocacy, it’s a well-known fact:
    letters are lizards with legs and tails
    syllables bite like alligator teeth
    and words blossom like magnolia trees.

    It’s no lie: in swamps and fields, the wind strokes
    and ripples the tiniest wild flower
    that under the light of a microscope
    lives as complex as an orchid or rose.

    It’s a fact: the cells of grasses and leaves
    resemble living streams and arteries.
    In marshes, hollow reeds are fiddle strings
    that shadow the shallows and hallowed-winged.

    It’s the truth: people swarm, sip, and worship
    our playgrounds during festival seasons
    as the heirs to brass notes float, fall, and rise
    beneath the gumbo of moon and moonshine.

    While the infinite and miniscule breed
    while lizards, swamps and birds battle to breathe
    the heated U.S. is rooted and twined
    to nature’s rhythms and rhymes. Who rests?
  • commented 2016-04-22 16:00:37 -0400
    Fractacide

    We are not supposed
    to take our lives
    Right to Die
    called suicide
    but no problem
    when the drilling starts
    burning water, toxic air,
    methane rising
    and broken hearts.
    It’s for the Common Good
    jobs and savings
    regardless of your ravings
    and, of course,
    the doctor’s call:
    Your days are numbered.
    No jobs and then……
    that’s all. - d.o.

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