Geography Lessons

Nov 15 2012

In the heart

of a land-locked continent

built on Precambrian rock,

you would never guess

this is the water planet,

a pendant, dangling

luminous blue

in vast indifferent blackness.

They say the pounding surf

creates waves of sound

that carry for thousands of miles,

too deep

for human hearing.

That the heat

of the tropical sea

powers everything,

the engine of weather

even here.

That we arose in its depths

and bear its pedigree;

the salt in our veins

hypnotic rocking of waves,

the atavistic pull

of weightlessness.

I look over the land

with a reassuring sense

of permanence,

solid ground

underfoot.

But they say great cities

have been swept away

by a hurricane,

the unstoppable force

of wind and waves

on vainglorious towers.

One-way glass,

clinging to the edge

of land.

While we felt nothing here.

Perhaps a day

of scattered rain.

I slept fitfully, that night,

restless, rolling

like the constantly changing sea.

My heartbeat up,

and a low deep rumbling sound.

Struggling to breathe,

like the incubus

were holding me down.

And turbulent dreams

of a helpless child

about to drown.

Hurricane Sandy blasted the US North-east, especially New York City and the Jersey shore. All that weight of human suffering, yet here we would have been oblivious if it weren't for TV. As if we could be protected here, in the heart of a vast and stable continent.

But, of course, we are all connected:  just as the primordial sea still runs in our blood; and just by virtue of our highly complex and interdependent society.

The most heart-breaking story was of a young mother whose 2 small children were torn from her arms, and lost.