the quencher of perpetual thirsts,
the extinguisher of sporadic wildfires,
the melter of wicked witches,
why besmirch your goodness
with outbursts that flood unwary towns
in a flash, turn docile roadways into
raging rivers, inundate immaculate houses
with sludgy debris?
Have you gone mad?
Or are you simply mourning the desecration
of pristine seas by spilled oil and
recoiling in horror as your precious gift
is squandered on desert golf courses
and suburban water parks,
cringing in pain when thriving wetlands
are paved over in blind disregard
of the protection they provide against
the very events headlining newspapers
with increasing regularity?
Is it too late to find our way back
to a more balanced world,
where calamities are rare,
and humans and nature live together
in respectful balance?
Or has that bridge already been washed away
in epic tears of despair?
About the Poem
The regularity of epic flooding, both in the US and worldwide, raises the alarm even higher than the destruction climate change will bring is not in some distant future. This poem wonders if it’s too late to alter the path we’re on.
About the Author
Rick Blum has been chronicling life’s vagaries through essays and poetry for more than 30 years during stints as a nightclub owner, high-tech manager, market research mogul, and, most recently, old geezer. His writings have appeared in more than 60 magazines and literary journals, as well as in numerous poetry anthologies.