Thoughts Over Greenland
This was written while I was on my flight back from Russia and heading over Greenland. Listening to Cut Copy. 6 more hours in the flight. I’d already watched 2 movies, and I only had 3 hours of battery time remaining on my beast of a laptop.
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The beauty of the pristine environment below just makes me think of the unseen effect that we are having on the environment. I look at the glaciers flowing to the sea and the many icebergs floating upon it, and I just wonder how and if we will survive the changes ahead.
I know that many people are not convinced about the climate change situation facing us, but I think many more people are thinking about the possibilities than 30 years ago.
My grandfather, over 90 and well intentioned, didn’t believe the speculation about the population problem, and he doesn’t believe that climate change is an issue either. Well, in his lifetime, we have not observably exceeded the limits of this planet.
However, we are not able to feed millions of people in the less resource rich areas of the world. Is Africa succeeding? Is India succeeding yet? The rich are doing fine wherever they are, but the poor are doing ever poorer. Is that a failing of the planet? I don’t think so. It is a human failing. A political failing.
Cold, cold,
Deep blue hue.
The ice water resembles
A cocktail sipped poolside in
Miami heat.
Hot, hot,
Red, orange.
The earth dark brown
Like chocolate in a silver wrapper.
Shivering with enjoyment,
The snow ever moving
Ever slipping off the edge of the pool
In a white bikini showing
More skin than the prettiest girl.
Ice, ice,
Water, ocean.
Land.
Earth.
Our earth.
Here at the northern pole
The atmosphere wraps it in clouds
And fog like the most demure maiden.
It sizzles and burns openly further south,
But here, here,
It is the ice queen.
The snow maiden
Vasilisa the Fair.
We watch,
Helpless,
As she gives herself to the sea.
2 Responses to “Thoughts Over Greenland”
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Wow. That’s a beautiful poem. That’s why poets should always have the window seat.
I really like the poem in this post. The end had a little bit of a W.B. Yeats feel to it.