End of the earth

The end is nigh, when not if

telescopes and microscopes and satellites are trained

tracking speed and heading

this way, nothing but dead sea between us,

The end draws near, the horizon draws closer

an inconvenient truth

a world on fire, flooded and poisoned

politics religion justice, all have failed us

as we have failed them all

consumption, corruption, pollution, accelerating

tipping points, critical loss, extinction,

So I ran, far away from civilisation

to the last place on earth,

from the east and the west the currents still sweep the debris away

virgin sands, crystal waters

blue glass curling and gently breaking

somewhere behind the sun-capped peaks

the world is warring, hastening its demise

hungry extraction, refined concentration, toxic obsolescence

landfill landscapes growing, glowing

while refugees hold out . . .

no dignity in poverty,

no dignity in riches,

no glorious empire,

Let the silk run through your hands

let the water tide-mark the contours of your body

see how the sun lifts everything in view

so beautiful, that sadness rises in balance

we will be overrun

an unstoppable wave pushes hard, barely retreating before surging again

irresistible

How lucky we are to see paradise

how we feel we dreamt it all, just by looking away

wasn’t this Eden enough

could we not have stayed, it all

even Eden tells of taking more

of self and pride and greed

the seeds of its destruction.

I spent some time at the climate protests in October in London, and in the evenings I’d see an almost completely different protest in the media, from the view of the police, or the commuter, or the taxi driver, but rarely from the view of the protesters or the planet, which was not great. Boris laughing it off as uncooperative crusties when mostly it was the older middle aged, silver hair and walking boots, grandparents, parents, scientists and students, using their privilege where others couldn’t. I was proud of the police being there (although there seemed to be an excessive number) to protect the protests as well as break them down, and the freedom there was to take the lead that month. There was an immense feeling of positivity and togetherness and sense, for what needs to be done, and it has spread. But the power is with the powerful and they have other concerns. This poem was written in the pessimism that followed. I’m happy to be proved wrong.