No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.
That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.
Say you are at the supermarket, no
say you are at the farmer's market, meaning
you don't go in for plastic wrapped food, but
you bring your stringy hemp bag. How nice, but what
did you think, that one tomato at a time we
can stop climate change, find
a way to keep butterflies and songbirds here?
Say you'll install solar panels on your roof, no
say you've already installed them, your purpose
feels urgent, you are off the power grid, but
the sun feels stronger every day, what
you never expected was tornados, floods, we
can barely hold on to any progress we make.
Today each weather warning lasts longer, that
way the window of safety shrinks, and
we huddle closer, protect ourselves, our beloved,
while lightning sparks, we wait for all to clear
though we need more time to prepare, instructions
to face this new future. The earth will turn
against us, beyond the ladders of light leaning into
the clouds, beyond the hymns and songs
to creation, show me a new song to sing,
not king coal, not drill baby oil, give me
more songbirds to hallelujah my grandchildren awake.
