The story! the story! they tell us

They clamor and yell us.

The collage of the past,

Twists, turns,churns in chaotic pictures.

The Gaia, the earth, the terra

All spinning in shreds.

The land, the world of our birth,

Our foremothers, grandmothers and others

No longer praised, but depraved.

Ravaged, unrecognized.

Tell Us! Tell Us!

They shriek, of the magic time,

Of things called fish,

That swam in water,

That you could eat!

Of feathered things

That flew and sang music.

Of huge four legged animals

That lived in woods all free.

And oh please tell us of woods,

Forests, and strands of giant trees!

Please, oh please they beg us,

Tell us another of your strange fantasies,

When our air was safe and

Our sol, our sun was meek.

Tell us one of your funny dreams!

(Ah yes, your funny dreams

As you read the page and heard the news

An oil spill there, pollution here

Another species disappears.

As your heart contracted you thought

Someone ought to do something

And surely they will.)

As you weave your tale they listen

Slack-jawed, bug-eyed, enrapt.

They skip away from the marvelous dream

Giggling, laughing, what nonsense,

What tripe, what wonderful make believe,

If only such a place existed or ever really did!

Joanna Ballard - July 28, 1991