One Poem. One Planet. April 5, 2017
Though we have shattered our throats with rage
our words bounce like rocks against armored walls
when you call dead children
somebody else’s responsibility
nothing means anything
and we choke on babble
our mouths fill with disgust
revulsion, despair and it means nothing
Then today, I found a new fear
holding up the palace of grief,
if they have already taken our outrage
what’s next but our wonder and awe
yesterday, turning from the wound of the world
for a moment I saw a lynx in the woods
pale as smoke padding across pocked snow.
She was gray and brown, let me bear witness,
her ears were tufted. Quiet awareness among the trees.
She was not tremendous. Or fantastic.
Nothing terrific about her, and she’s never said
really really nice things about anyone.
She was a surprise encounter
on painful day and I almost forgot to mention her.
–Arlitia Jones, April 5, 2017