an environmental reconciliation strategy (most selfishly inspired)

  ecological intervention 1, northam (pward 2012)
 .
I take.
I take from you and I am not too sure what I give back, what I can give back,
apart from the obvious of course,
the churning cyclical excrement of my existence (albeit in its newly sanitized state).
 .
Maybe this is quite enough –
I cannot compete with the trees
either in my offerings
nor my poetry.
 .
As I breathe, I take
and in return, in my exhalation,
I give out what must be reprocessed to be of use again,
to myself and my kind at least.
 .
But others do still feed on me as I feed on you
in this crazy maze of mutual mutterings –
though not as many as my history recalls.
So should I feel guilt for this apparent anthropocenic-unbalancing act?
 .
Should I reproach myself especially for my greedy existencing
or should I accept it as my especial nature within this infinite nature?
There is truly nothing that I can give that you do not already have
despite my lofty self-appraisals, my aspirations of good housekeeping.
 .
I do not play along like the ocean or the rivers, constant and massive,
and as much as I would like to see myself in yourself
my contribution is swept aside within your all-ness,
a pinprick in this great big big-ness.
  tied rushes 1, northam (pward 2012)
All said and done, whether this degradation has been mine or not,
how may I more mindfully tread with all of you in mind,
within my natural acceptance? You are my body, my food and shelter after all.
How may I holistically assess my sensible contribution to this animate depletion?
 .
If I can carry you in my arms alone is this fair enough?
If I can dig you with my fingers or break you with my hands
is this the responsible response to my needs be?
Despite my communal aptitudes, my gregarious longings, my shared adaptability, my tactile intelligence,
.
Should I maybe deny such bounteous temptations,
such celebration of my ingenuity –
let the tiny things take me
in spite of my miraculous medicinal massacring?
.
But I will no longer stick needles in my eyes.
I will instead endeavour to a moderation in simplistic mediation,
a middle ground from where I may reciprocally assess my damaging,
towards a place where you and I may carry on disparately dancing together.
 .
I do not (want to) believe that I am merely parasitic in my inclusive entity,
feeding, feeding, taking and taking, capable of giving nothing in return,
unable to contribute to the fertility, the ongoing operatic –
apart from making more and more of myself in my own image of course.
 .
I would like to believe that there is an option to choose
to act instinctively for every energetic thing, with or without due intercourse to remind,
through smashing and crashing and bashing about, that my smallness is a blessing
my inadequacy and imperfection a cause for actual celebration.
 .
If I were to dig a small hole in the earth, with remedial sensitivity,
water may gather, seeds may fall and dusty debris too (food for some).
I could walk away
and we may all still continue to grow, whether I like it or not…
.
PW 2012
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