The village almost abuts the cliff-face
karst limestone carved out by the river:
millennial winds have swept over its contours
which centuries of rain have washed with tears.
There’s a way into the cave, but it’s not for hikers
only climbers can access this eyrie
approaching the cliff face see
an abandoned building:
here nature has reclaimed the land
and I blunder clumsily, intruder in this sacred space.
There are to climbers calls to etch the air with echoes,
the birds seemed to have been whispering secrets
which, as I interrupted, flew away.
When did we unlearn the art
of being part of nature?
Was it in those first cities
along the banks of the Tigris
For sure we understood the rise and fall of river tides
and tried to tame them then.
Now, it seems, we wilfully misunderstand
the rise of earthwide tides
the sea’s encroaching
nature reclaiming all that is her own.
We valued our independence above all things
made ourselves apart where once we’d been a part.
Now hear the raging song the angry earth sings:
the crackling of wildfire and the roar
of untamed winds.
© Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved
Written for earthweal
Please consider this a draft. My response to Brendan’s Interdependence Day challenge. My thoughts are more rambling than I would have liked them, but with so much going on in my life right now, it can be hard to see the wood from the trees.
This poem was inspired by a visit to the Osp Valley in Southern Slovenia yesterday.
I will be away from WordPress most of the week as I make the finishing touches to The Anthropocene Hymnal. I’m hoping to announce a publication date at the weekend!
Here are some more images to compensate for my stumbling words: