Last week, Trump pulled the U.S. out of the Paris Climate Accord. This poem is not about that.
This bush is on fire,
and we have misplaced god.
“Nature is not natural and can never be naturalized.”
The lines we draw around the sacred earth can cut us right down the middle.
We draw a line around what is sacred, to set it apart as special. We imagine the planet as a precious blue marble floating in space, so small and far away we cannot see the delicate contours of our own faces turned upwards towards the night sky, doing the imagining. We worship the lands that give us life, the earth that sustains us with its salty waters and wild winds, its mud and grit. We encircle the world in the darkness of outer space, and it shimmers all the brighter.
But when we’re not paying attention, the lines we draw around the sacred can cut us right through the middle.