A POEM A DAY

I'm just happy to be here.

Tag: earth day

22/30: – WHAT THIS EARTH HAS TO OFFER

For my wife, Adela, on Earth Day

On our honeymoon, no matter where we stood,
we stopped to watch the sun crawl back
into the other side of tomorrow.
The migration of light crossed all living things
like a promise for what was to come.
Our love made us a witness
to what this Earth has to offer.

We are in Marfa, Texas,
it is a Texas December
and the cold air carries
itself into our breath
and out with each word.
I watch your neck crane
like a telescope
your eyes marvel
your voice traveled
upwards to the only sky
I’ve ever seen with
enough light to turn
the dark wild desert
into a matrimony of star fire.

In Golden Colorado,
We drive up to Lookout Mountain Road
to witness the Great Conjunction
Where Jupiter and Saturn blur into one
An earthly phenomenon that won’t happen again
for another 80 years
A million miles away,
Two planets align
into a holy reminder
of what happens
when the Universe
makes a promise
and keeps it.

On the outskirts of Alamogordo, New Mexico
White Sands National Park orbits like
another planet
Walking across the sand dunes,
we stomp and stare into an
endless white sea
The mountains surround us
as does the light
A distant wind wanders
across the sand like
a spirit.
The spirit blesses us
with the different colors of the sky
I think of the ground as a canvas
untouched and boundless
When the sun dips behind a strange horizon
I set my eyes on what’s left behind
The purple-pink-blue hues
go outside the lines of time
like spilled paint. When the light
hits your face, I am blessed by
the gravity of our love,
how it tethers us here
to this world
to this Earth.


22/30: EARTH DAY 2020

“I move with the breeze in the trees /
I know that time is elastic”
– Fiona Apple, I Want You to Love Me

The world is not ending. It’s still here
for now. I agree though, its end seems
unfathomable—
Separated from the soil,
collecting tidbits about
the coming extinction,
the fate of the Glaciers,
the disappearing honey,
flowers I cannot name,
all the forgotten scents
saying goodbye to the clean air,
leaving behind the trees,
accepting
the reality of
living
without
what’s always
been.
And then I think
Oh,
god bless
earth-made shade,
my body
alive in the cold springs,
my grandma’s voice
when her garden
is in full swing.
These little things.
How much more time
before nothing is the same?

22/30: WHILE I’M HERE

And while I’m here on earth, I rejoice in its worth
Cuz freedom is free”

-Chicano Batman, Freedom is Free”

I can’t name every tree branch I ran beneath like
water under the bridge but while I’m here, let me

Rejoice in the shade outside my door. Sun pours
into my hands like water and I become the color of

Light. Sometimes I want to hold this earth close as if my
heart were a greenhouse. Yes, I want to hold whatever grows

Along the axis of my pain. I have planted seeds like
poems and I do not know if anyone is actually going to read

What I am writing, what I am holding, what I am still growing.
After a long day in the wilderness, I break bread with the balance

In all things. I lament all the bees I’ve killed without first considering
life. Breathing in the same air as the mountains, as the trees, as the river,

I am anchored to the universe, the same why a rhyme sneaks into
every verse. Like it’s supposed to be here. I am supposed to be here.

Hasn’t anyone seen me swimming in the river? Atop the red rocks,
I rock my head gently in the garden of the gods. I commune with

My own existence. Every time I feel my heart beat, I remember
the laws of my body shape every phase of civilization. Look!

Silence is everywhere the cardinal’s song has yet to go. Really
all I want is to walk outdoors for miles and still have somewhere to go.

The sky always answers what’s next. And lucky for me,
everything I see and touch is beautifully enough.

22/30: EARTH DAY

Out of my own wilderness I return.
After gathering the shade scattered in the garden,
I want to thank God for the Earth,
Rejoice in the sprawling worth, remembering
Spring as the time I swam and did not sink
Remembering my flintstone feet as a sundial
While I try to see the tops of the redwoods
This earth never once betrayed me
I want to thank God for this

But stop myself

Cause God allegedly gave us earthlings too
And what this earthling does in the dark of night
Underneath the marauding magnolia trees
Maneuvering between the wind as the bayou breathes
Can spring a loathsome wrath against the space we share.
Not enough of us care, even though there are more of us now
Than ever before, and the earth is smaller now than it was,
I can see it in how we look at one another.
But today, I reach for the light.
Out of my own wilderness I return from a hungry loneliness.
Even in loneliness, I have yet to love the light less.
Were it not for the pictures of my grandma’s backyard garden
All over her Facebook wall, it’s possible I’d never forgive myself
for staying inside the house.