Listen to Your Mother
I smell the stench before I reach the shore—the scent of loss, of greed. Death surrounds me, enfolds me in his unrelenting grip. It might be too late. Can we reverse what we have done?
Corpses of silver-bodied tilapia gleam deceptively on the shore. Decomposition ruthlessly consumes the beached and poisoned fish, while inclement weather erodes abandoned buildings. No tourist haven, here—rather a harbinger of destruction, consuming dreams.
light dances silver
still waters, beds of decay
The Salton Sea, in the deep Southern California desert, occurs naturally when the waters of the Colorado River rise, periodically. Years ago, human intervention created a man-made lake for the purpose of building up agricultural production. In 1905, an investment group jumped aboard with the purpose of created a tourist attraction. Without going into detail, interfering the natural course of things, messing with Mother Nature, has proved to be a disaster to the ecology because of unstable water supplies and changing salinity. Many legislative proposals, it seems, are ever before the California Assembly in an attempt to save it. This is an example of what happens when we don’t listen to our Mother.
I’m linking this haibun to dVerse Poetics. The prompt asks us to write ecopoetry. The doors to the pub will open Tuesday, 12 Noon, EST. Please join us.