Edward Abbey

Sunrise

Edward Abbey

park ranger

desert solitary

author – avatar

of beautiful

traumatized Earth

wrote to us

with a pine needle

with tip of the tail

of a gopher snake,

“there is a kind of

poetry, even a kind

of truth

in simple facts.”

 

a pinyon jay

on shaded ground

a chickadee

on a swaying branch

a leaf, a bud

greens of moss

atop a stone

salmon struggling

to swim upstream

some exhausted and

dying – others already dead

lifeless bodies with jutted jaws

littering banks, awash

afloat in micro-currents

the stench of decomposing fish

 

a bald eagle

topping a towering tree, an

autumn leaf, curled

and brittle, suspended in midair

by a single spider-thread

twirling this way

twirling that

at every wayward puff of wind

the felt-sound of

flapping raven wings

 

rowdy winds

rough waters

out over the Salish Sea

a resident

orca pod patrolling

Puget Sound – the powerful

beauty of their black and

white sleek bodies

the magnitude

of Mount Rainier

crashing flush

of Snoqualmie Falls

full autumn moon

closer to my shadow

my face

than the infinite field

of clustered stars

 

a nectar-sucking

hummingbird, a

pollenating bumblebee

a ladybug

the liquid drum of

rain – drizzle or downpour

the curious

composure of squirrels

with small, folded hands

sensitive, flicking tails and

their sudden, scampering, agility

multiple

pleasures of solitude

pressure of sunlight, air

cupped by human palms, lines

interior of the human hand

 

Edward Abbey

park ranger

desert solitary

author – avatar

of beautiful

traumatized Earth

wrote to us

on a red tail hawk’s feather

on a swirl

of drought dry dust

“not a silence

as much

as a great stillness…

surrounding

overwhelming peace…

a suspension of time

a constant presence.”

 

Earth

Nature

Natural Earth

this spinning

blue ball in space

land lapped unendingly

by encircling oceans

the Life Place

Earth – Home!

 

Abbey

in his wonder

stopped to

write to us.

and do we feel

the pathos of his sanity;

allow his voice entrance

emotions more

than the vacuum and vacancies

in crowded, denatured heads?

Can we learn still?

Change? It is

late, if not too late.

Be truthful about commitment:

Is it too late?

 

How many heartbeats

how many breaths

in the mere span

of 90 seconds! **

Edward Abbey calls out

amid the ruins of civilization

against completing

planetary ruination,

“Long live

 diversity

Long

live the Earth.”

*Edward Abbey, American naturalist/environmentalist, author of the contemporary eco-classic DESERT SOLITAIRE. Quotations from Abbey are taken from this book.

**Reference is to the Doomsday Clock currently set at 90 seconds before midnight – midnight being the Armageddon of Omnicide, the Cataclysm of Oblivion.

David Sparenberg: An international essayist, eco-poet, and storyteller, David Sparenberg is author of four books: EARTH KEEPER: an Ecosophy of Poems, EARTH CRISIS HUMAN CRISIS: Urgent Essays, BEING HERE & BELONGING: Visions, Talks & Meditations, volumes 1-3 in the Grassroots Reader Series, and CONFRONTING the CRISIS: Essays & Meditations on Eco Spirituality from Moon Books.  David lives in Seattle, WA in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.

Tags:

Support Countercurrents

Countercurrents is answerable only to our readers. Support honest journalism because we have no PLANET B.
Become a Patron at Patreon

Join Our Newsletter

GET COUNTERCURRENTS DAILY NEWSLETTER STRAIGHT TO YOUR INBOX

Join our WhatsApp and Telegram Channels

Get CounterCurrents updates on our WhatsApp and Telegram Channels

Related Posts

The Angels of Gaza

(Based on true and almost true events) the weeping is an immense angel,the weeping is an immense violin,the tears muzzle the wind,nothing else is heard but the weeping. From "Casida…

Lament

For the sake of Godhe saidhis voice in tremor. For sake of the Earth and moon.For wind over trees.For the sake of mirror-wateron a moonlit lake. He shaped his heartinto…

Words I Can’t Find Anymore

Children eating grass, innocent, hungry and lostMothers soaked in red, wombs tremble in terror Searching for words I may write of the pain withinSearching for words I may speak of…

Sundays

I sit still, lethargicAnd add new wordsTo the great tapestryOf female sorrows From a distant cityOver the ruinsOf a war he never foughtA boy cries, there is no wayBack to…

Operation Gold Rush

It's all about the gold.Hasn't it always been?The allure, the beauty of goldin whatever form it takes —wealth, power, fame, ironclad security. In Gaza the rush is on.Tanks, bombs, missiles,…

IN the HUMAN WORLD

In the human worldwe have heroesand villainsand cowards. Those who defend lifetaking risks aboveand beyond self interestthose who destroy lifeand those we do not carewho play games ofselfish detachment and…

Join Our Newsletter


Annual Subscription

Join Countercurrents Annual Fund Raising Campaign and help us

Latest News