The Beginning of the End -- June 16 2022

 

The Beginning of the End

June 16 2022

Pollen chokes the air,

coating everything

with a dull dusty grime.

The car has lost its shine

the lake's a murky yellow.

Even glossy leaves

are struggling to breath

through badly clogged stomata.

I sneeze, drip, itch.

My ears are plugged,

fog dulls my brain.

There is no escape

from the fall-out,

no bunker

with filtered air and survival rations

to hunker down in.

Human frailty

and the fecundity of nature.

But why such waste, excess

promiscuity?

As if every growing thing

had expended its last dreg of energy

to reproduce.

As if the world

on the verge of ending

had marshalled its resources

in a last desperate attempt

to carry on

despite the dire state of things.

Like humans, in a hedonistic frenzy

as the ship goes down

the bombs creep closer.

Or, instead of sex and self-indulgence,

would we stop, and reflect

on love, regret, purpose?

End our lives

in a quest for meaning,

prepare to take a final breath

with dignity and calm?

In the misery

of pollen season

the mind can't help but turn

to catastrophe.

When really, it's not Hiroshima

or an asteroid,

just ragweed and trees.

The lake looks soupy, the car needs a wash.

And I am inside,

drugging myself

with pharmaceuticals.

But the air outside is rich with life,

on every surface

a wealth of potential.

So it's not the beginning of the end, after all.

It's hope

adaptation

succession.