All animal life moves from hatch or birth to breed;
then on to its own hatch or birth, then dying
to repeat again, infinitely and intimately chained
in love or indifference to the earth
whose body feeds us, and who will incorporate our own bodies
when we have no further need of flesh. That matter,
our substance, manifested in wings, fins, legs, or claws;
exoskeleton, shell, fur, or skin,
anything that might swim in or breathe air or water;
it is all life, and holy.
This animal has a mind, vision, and dreams that reach further
than the limits of its skin. Our bones, stacked upright
and stretched to their tallest
cannot by themselves touch the clouds,
and our walking does not topple trees, as the dinosaurs’ did.
We are made weak and aware of our weakness
and would spend our lives hiding from things
stronger or faster than ourselves, and hungrier;
we with no claws or teeth sharp enough
to defend fragile flesh, and no shells to protect it.
Our weapon is awareness
and our strength is in building,
in shaping environments to suit us.
But have we finally become too good
at this survival game, now exhausting the earth
beneath our feet and poisoning
what we must drink and breathe to live?
Perhaps that, this knowing
we have gone too far
in this experiment to ever succeed
can be what saves us,
and perhaps what is needed
is for us to bend these long legs
and ask for help
from anyone
who might be listening:
God help us
someone help us
us help us.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Just beautiful. Green peace should adopt this! All life is holy…Yeah, me likes! our weapon is awareness? is or should be? Ultimately, human survival will depend to the degree to which emotional intelligence can discipline a detached intelligence that is fuelled by materialism and driven by short termism!
Noel–thank you so much for liking this. Yes, our survival depends on our ability to curtail greed; am still hopeful this can be done.
I agree with Noel a good write
Thank you, Ian–kept me up a bit late, so glad you enjoyed it 🙂
very nice as to the metaphor in regards to the earth and the co-existence of the human race.
Thanks so much, Don.
Perhaps you’re right, Susan, but I find as the years pass that my cynicism overwhelms the once optimistic soul that inspired my hopes for humanity. I haven’t many left. So if only for the sake of a finer future for all, I do hope you’re right that enough people know that we have gone too far — and that they can make a difference.
Ah, George, I am an optimist & activist at heart, and do so hope we can change (feels the hot breath of approaching cynicism on her ankles as she writes, and unsure how long she can outrun it).
For the sake of the rest of us, Susan, don’t give up. If you could outrun a 17-year writer’s block, then surely you can outrun a bit of lethargic cynicism.
🙂 George–you are priceless!
I love this. The last two verses are perhaps the most affecting:
Bending down to ask for help from anyone who might be listening is, for me, one of the most touching images. I love the thought that we could find redemption there, that everything is kin but even better, that our kin might help us. . . could help us. . . even willingly, wantingly will help us.
I believe -for what it is worth- that every time we seek fellowship we actually do find it. Perhaps it is because the fellowship is already there, we just have to become aware of it. I think the fact that you are aware and that you broadcast this awareness to all through your beautiful poetry is one of the most hopeful things. And people respond which is just as wonderful.
I don’t mean to sound hyperbolic, I just mean that there are hearts and minds (minds as hearts and full-bodied/embodied beings) out there who keep waking up to this and wanting to share it. There may be hope yet.
Jeremy–this is beautiful, I love your response more than I like the poem!
Thank you. But I still love the poem. 🙂
Im honestly speechless Susan and can’t express how its moved me~Blessings Deb
Thanks so much Deb 🙂