Poem: Seasons, Extinction

"Daffodil Garden" by Lisa Carney. Website: www.lisacarneyart.com Purchase: www.ugallery.com/products/acrylic-painting-daffodil-garden

Seasons, Extinction

by Tawanda Jazz

I imagine myself as a monk

a rice farmer

a solitary toad Zen beside moonlit pond

I rake in the heat of the sun

work the land and uncover peace—

     after burning skies

     and the ash of the wild

     this blue expanse is a gift.

I exhale

and give thanks

     with the threat of Russia looming

     China collecting its debts

     the U.S. and all its secrets.

In this pandemic life

the things we do for fear—

     the absurdity of denialism

     & attempting to cheat Death

     by ignoring its breath,

     steaming on your neck.

These are the things

that mark the beginning

of the end

     and the crisis of collapse,

          lightning at the White House,

          reservoirs that run dry.

I try to imagine a future

but there is only emptiness.

     So I must bring myself back

     to the gentle raking, 

     breeze on my forehead,

     the rattle of cherry tree branches.

II

There is a sort of determination

that comes with the knowledge

that we know nothing.

Mind empty of the future

no control to be had

but a soft sense of balance,

of loss

velvet river current pressing on,

always flowing down,

always an exit.

The ice has broken on the Laurel leaf,

rain is brushing the worst of winter away, down, out—

My fingertips are frozen

but fire

brings warmth and comfort

for now

One more season and we’ll wish for rain.

III

I am ready to move into the future, blind—

to let go of the unnecessary and stale,

to dance and stumble through days

like a wet current,

a calm wave.

If spring comes, daffodils will announce its arrival.