Poem for Earth Day, Every Day by Mary Lou Meyers

My classmate Mary Lou sent me this poem, so this posting doubles as an original posting as well as the special postings for
Earth Day, Every Day.

Thanx, Mary Lou



What Have They Done to Our Dream?
(Dedicated to those who fight the Good Fight!)
What have they done to our dream
forged on rocky shores of Plymouth Town?
Filled green spaces with toxic waste,
dredged the ocean floor,
smoke stacks spewing forth,
acid rain, we know who’s to blame,
shrouding the sky forever more!

What have they done
to John Muir’s glowing testament?
Left oil tracks in the trackless wilderness,
dammed blood red salmon, silver side up,
defiled pure flowing streams
with capital leavings,
Go West by God machines!


What have they done
to wave upon wave of amber grain?
Transplanted hard asphalt
poisoning the earth for all its worth.
A putrid stench drifts through the vast plains,
traced to factories of cattle, chickens, and hogs,
manure runs free down all the valleys
pouring nitrates into the dying reservoirs.

What have they done
to the lofty spires of ancient red wood trees,
cathedrals of pine lifting spirits and minds,
pumping aromatic blends in the breeze?
While quaking aspens whisper amen,
the wood swallow tolls “misere,”
when we give carte blanche to
a few triumphant loggers who
blaspheme our sacred heritage
ground down to bitter bleeding stumps.

What have they done
to uncharted stretches of forests and shore
deserts, swamps, and mountains filled with lore?
Blasted them into smithereens mining ore.
Instead of restoring sacred wetlands,
they destroy them flooding streams
with chemicals from fracturing,
pledging allegiance to blow hard schemes
with rampant developments
growing up in-between.
Who will they answer to
in a generation or two:
spoiled beaches, raped streams,
waters laced with mercury,
tortured mountains brought low,
fish-killing phfiesteria, wildlife hysteria,
with no place left to go?

They can purge their guts,
but it doesn’t mean very much,
who can trust the rainbows,
the sunset’s jagged edge,
a chemical upheaval of red.
Bituminous coal undermining,
luminous passageways reminding
no where left to go,
with Centralia’s* blazing inferno.
We pay for the crisscross of freeways
bathed in layers of smog,
power plants puffing away,
acid rain decay.
Underneath the ozone glaring sun,
blue sky’s been undone.
(Photo of Centralia)*

Without a killing frost,
seasons are lost.
We can talk about the reach of their greed,
destroying clean water and air as they please.
Pork barreling bridges to nowhere
instead of human sanctuaries.
No guy at the top telling them to stop,
In spite of ranting and railing,
special interests prevailing.
No, it doesn’t mean very much,
EPA, DEP, and such.

Harm to the nation doesn’t change
Agra’s predilection for factory farms.
Hormones galore stored in our meats,
guaranteed to make big Packers,
drug companies happy,
while the family farm begets,
nothing but misery and debts.
We are deceived into believing,
fairy tales which say everything’s A-Okay!

They even sing about freedom from care,
when it’s too late for just allegiance or prayers,
the facts are in, we’re all endangered too,
with despair floating on poisoned air,
children crying for playing room
in this dust-laden tomb called America.

No, it doesn’t mean much at all.
No song to carry us along,
no gospel to answer the last wild calls.
Listen closely and you can hear,
the gasp of the soft animal within us,
struggling to recall all we once held dear.
For a pocketful of gold,
they destroy the human soul,
we must gain control to make it whole again.
Funny thing, we are they, and they are we,
our needs become our grim reality.
Help the earth remember,
and take us back tenderly,

restore our dream forever more.

 

*Centralia- From Wikipedia (I drove through there a couple of times & it is like a ghost town, as Wikipedia notes, with many houses abandoned & boarded up, while others remain despite the danger of gas explosions. es)

Centralia is a borough and a near ghost town in Columbia County, Pennsylvania, United States. Its population has dwindled from over 1,000 residents in 1981 to 10 in 2010,[2] as a result of the Centralia mine fire burning beneath the borough since 1962. Centralia is the least-populated municipality in Pennsylvania.

Centralia is part of the Bloomsburg-Berwick micropolitan area. The borough is completely surrounded by Conyngham Township.

All properties in the borough were claimed under eminent domain by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania in 1992 (and all buildings therein were condemned), and Centralia’s ZIP code was revoked by the Postal Service in 2002.[3] State and local officials reached an agreement with the seven remaining residents on October 29, 2013 allowing them to live out their lives there, after which the rights of their properties will be taken through eminent domain.[4]

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