disencumber the rain.

I should kill her seed;
moon drums on her cheek
a cerise blood by dissonant lips

dying lipstick across 
my forehead, frail grave beds,
I see the sun, plump in absence 
like your father or his wraith
we are merciless in our blood rose
delirium in the emptied photograph, 
a ghost of a bird’s vale in the wind.

I should’ve said
that our bodies are pixels in the snow
seeing our roots to every split
open crack we let stay
like a birthmark after we are born
disencumber the rain
from your faces, we shun the earth, 
for we whored her
and now we mourn, only after we die.

© 2021 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 7/19/2021 earthweal prompt: Write a poem of the Anthropocene which does not compromise. The prompt is inspired by Ingrid‘s call to action of the challenges we face when trying to change the world facing the climate change battle. She gave a lovely interview about it and I would highly suggest reading it on earthweal; very insightful and powerful.

This piece is about how we are actively killing ourselves by decimating the earth when we have had chances to help save it. Often how it goes in life, we often miss things when they are over and I believe we will mourn when it is too late in this case. The final line alludes to how this burden will be carried on to our blood that will live beyond our time.

Reposted for the 7/22/2021 dVerse Open Link Night Live Edition.

54 thoughts on “disencumber the rain.”

  1. Such a great piece! So many exceptional lines!
    “a ghost of a bird’s vale in the wind”
    “for we whored her and now we mourn, only after we die”
    The start, the ending, everything was just about perfect. Absolutely loved the way you wrote this ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  2. The ending is so powerful! “for we whored her”… it’s exactly what we did. And we dance with death, like teasing a lion through a glass barrier. The fragility of our facades. Your poem captures it all – the emptied photographs, the pixels in the snow. A beautiful, graphic write.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Powerfully said. I agree, human nature is such that we seem to learn our lessons too late. Witness the silence on the topic of the climate crisis by our ineffectual leaders, who have no clue how to go about what is so urgently needed. It doesnt fit their capitalist agenda. Some wonderful imagery in your poem. Your closing line is perfect.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. A very strange, dislocated, grievous time, this late era of the already dead — that sense that human purpose is “a ghost of a bird’s vale in the wind.” Words fail what we poets must sum, leaving tortured equations and ruined capitals “disencumbered” of rain. Like wildfire. Well done. – Brendan

    Liked by 3 people

  5. I am devastated and cut open by this magnificent piece from which I can pick no favorite line! Each word furthers the picture, furthers the honesty, and so bleeds with that truth more of us need to embrace.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. This is so dark and morbid I at first thought it wasn’t real. Then I read your explanation of why you wrote this poem and it cut right through to my core. Oh my, this is so true.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you so much. I honestly wish it wasn’t real. I never used to be so upset at what’s going on with the climate, but the more I’m reading and seeing, the more it makes me sick on what we’re doing right now to our oceans, ecosystems, and plant life. It continues to sink in how this is only going to come back and bite us (which it already has).

      Liked by 1 person

  7. powerfully profound Lucy, you said it well ‘whoring’ is an apt description! I particularly liked
    “our bodies are pixels in the snow
    seeing our roots to every split”

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Some truly haunting imagery in here! This line is great: “I should’ve said that our bodies are pixels in the snow” Oh what we have done to our Mother is unforgivable. 😔 I really love the title as well.

    Liked by 3 people

  9. A powerful poem, Lucy. I think the message is accurate that humans often wait to make corrections until it’s too late. We’ll be mourning our planet as we mourn our own deaths. We are a species capable to believing our own lies.

    Liked by 3 people

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