Some day soon, there will be nothing left to say. Everyone will see, not say. They will see, finally, where they are — and where they were. It all will make sense, as an object of contemplation. That which seemed hidden will be obvious – isn’t that the literal meaning of “apocalypse”?
Sure, we were nervous, but we didn’t think that kind of thing would happen here. Everything seemed so normal, until it didn’t. Our “freedom” allowed us freedom within a bubble; it grew like a hothouse plant, in a temperature-controlled environment. But the world is made of nothing but constraints. Needless to say, no one needs to say “nature.” The question remains the same: What do you grab as you’re fleeing the fire? Or whom? The parable of the grasshopper and the ants made me so guilty and anxious as a kid. You need to keep working, working, working, if you want to survive. But at what? Maybe I need to go to Karnataka or Siberia, Amazonia or the Horn of Africa, to see for myself the rubber hitting the road and crushing people underneath. Do some “travel writing.” To make it Real. To make it urgent. O but I can’t afford it – I can’t afford to take time off – I might get sick or kidnapped, &c. But then there’s the kicker: calculating how many pounds of CO2 that will add to the atmosphere and oceans. I guess I’ve always been an introvert, never entirely comfortable around people I’m not already comfortable around. And the way things are now, people here are starting to be downright scary: taking extreme positions and hardening into them; accusing each other of crazy shit (some of which is true); staring at their phones while bumping into people around them; burning fossil fuels like they will live for a thousand years; shooting one another over the stupidest shit. Maybe “the new barbarism” is starting already. People in Bangladesh – Uighurs in the PRC – or indigenous people everywhere – don’t have to be told this. They know it from experience that the world don’t owe you a living – or even life. As others have said, the apocalypse has already happened, for many. What’s happening now is that those of us with computers and blogs are realizing we’re next. Who knew??
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |