Deluge by Sara Wright

It’s time to submit another post to FAR, the only blog site I follow, and a place where I have found genuine support and even a sense of community, which for me is a great gift. Mostly, I experience myself as an outsider.

Lately though, I have found myself struggling to stay with  feminist issues. As a naturalist and lover of the earth I am continuously overwhelmed by more bad news and the apparent indifference of so many to what’s happening to people and this planet. Writers on this blog do address how these times are affecting women but less frequently how our issues are intimately related to what’s happening to the earth. Personally I am obsessed, and can’t seem to focus or write about any topic that doesn’t address these issues or how I feel about what’s happening here – climate change is catastrophic, as is the loss of non – human species. The poem/prose that follows is the kind of writing that rises out of some dark place inside me where much of time I feel like I am drowning.

In my life inner and outer seem to be reflections of one another- the personal issues that affect me seem to be mirrored cross-culturally. And as you will see by the following I am unable to separate the feminist woman in me from the whole.

Deluge after the Solstice.

I awakened
this morning
remembering my
  yearning…
 Ah, the longest day
of the year had passed
the night before.
A seasonal cycle completed –
Now, possible reprieve?
 Honoring the Turning
 I spent
 hours present
to bees and birds;
  diamond sun
glittered and spun.
 I wandered
here and there
 under gold and
 lemony green
inhaling the scent of lilies,
startling mama grouse,
 singing to the brook,
recalling nightmares
of shrinking waters –
(never imagining
 this future would come).
I leaned into Northwest wind.
 Although brisk it
seemed benign,
not intent upon
splintering shipwrecked birches.
 Some snapped
like matchsticks
last spring.
In the balsam scented dusk
 I prayed for rain –
to soften cracked ground,
to bring courage, endurance,
and relief .
A forest fed jewel –
Hummingbird,
hovered overhead.
You’re too vulnerable
She said.

Some nights
– dying forests
–  dead birds
 billions annihilated
 total invisibility,
my overwhelming fear
bring killers to life
How could we?
I long to retaliate –
 such outrageous injustice.
If only…
My sun is sinking
under a bittersweet horizon.
Implosion, Explosion.
A light goes out.

Shivering stars
a silver moon
and the split
knife of a battered mind
keep me awake
until dawn –
When I hear
my lover’s voice –
  sweet rain begins to fall.

One thunderous rumble
 and illusion shatters
 – a screeching
 metal sheet
pounds stones
beneath my feet.
A raging deluge
obliterates the road,
pummels flowers,
rips leaves from trees
and I’m half
crazy
with the knowing
 more extremes
are on the way.

Bio

Sara is a naturalist, ethologist (a person who studies animals in their natural habitats) (former) Jungian Pattern Analyst, and a writer. She publishes her work regularly in a number of different venues and is presently living in Maine.



Categories: Climate Change, Eco-systems, Ecofeminism, Feminism, Nature, Seasons

Tags: ,

13 replies

  1. Your post, Sara, reminds me of a question an aboriginally-trained teacher once asked me: What if the earth really is your mama? I appreciate your earth-centered posts very much.

    Like

    • The earth is so much more than a mother – she is a daughter, a sister, a brother, a lover, a grandmother – she encompasses all there is – and supports all Life. S/he is our most important teacher.

      Like

  2. For some reason I read your heartbreakingly beautiful poem and thought of the tin man from the Wizard of Oz. He learns he has a heart at the same time he learns that his heart could be broken. As you point out so poignantly, it is both existential and so deeply personal.

    I see your heart beating in tandem with Mama Earth. My wish for you is that you can find moments where it feels strong, loving and nurturing. I can attest that it is – you are – beautiful!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The planet is indeed our Blessed Mother Earth, the ur-mother of us all–humans and all our our furred, feathered and finned kin, also our flowering kin, our arboreal kin, and our mineral kin. We are all related. Cousins.

    Just last night, I was watching the news (well, it’s useful to keep up with what’s going on) about heat waves where there have never been heat waves before, floods…and people attacking and shooting each other. And I began to wonder if this human-driven climate change is killing our mother planet and if the 21st century is going to be the last century during which the planet is inhabited. By anyone or anything that grows and gives birth.

    Is there any way for us to regain any optimism? Any hope? Bright blessings to us all.

    Like

  4. Oh Barbara – it isn’t our imagination – it is getting worse and I see no light at the end of this tunnel.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I agree with you, Sara, it is all connected. My feminism is definitely ecofeminism, and I see the same disease at work behind every form of cultural, structural, and direct violence that humans inflict on other humans, other species, and ecosystems. I sometimes wonder if humans are simply too flawed to save. Certainly the planet would be better off without us. But I’m reminded that yeast did the same sort of ecological mass destruction takeover of Earth awhile back, and perhaps something else will come along and keep us in check. Covid certainly did a number on me, and it hasn’t slowed down across the planet yet. Not a happy thought as a parent. Porn use surged during the pandemic, and so did domestic violence. Domestic violence is higher in conflict zones, too. You are so good at accessing the healing energy of the natural spaces around you. I wonder sometimes how to translate that healing energy better to our communities.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Sara, we are sisters. I feel the same. I am grateful to not feel alone in this grief. Thank you for sharing your poem.

    Like

  7. When the term ecofeminism came into focus for me, probably in the late 80’s, it made perfect sense to me. We are not one without the other.

    Like

  8. Dear Sara, I love reading your blogs- I am behind with reading them of late …. thank you for your prose and personal reflections …….. yes the Earth she is de-stressed …… I just wanted to share a few years ago I was in despair about climate change and the impacts that I /we saw here in Australia and the pacific rim and Antarctic…. and the list goes on ……….. then one night I had a memorable dream that the Earth would survive – the vision of a over grown lush forest presented itself to me and an amazing feeling of strength endurance and survival prevailed… huge green spread of continuity …. AND man was no where to be seen …… they had not survived …. but She lived and grow on reclaiming the canker of mankind…… I awoke with smile and an empowered present of Her grace and powerful presence ….SHE will continue after we had long gone …..
    go well and may Mother Earth hold you close
    Blessed be Tess

    Liked by 1 person

Please familiarize yourself with our Comment Policy before posting.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: