lament, for ishmael
Call me what you will.
The truth is.
Haven’t you, too,
felt a visceral rush
as the last sand races down the narrow
neck
of the hourglass?
Time’s up.
Witness the warm-blooded
sacrifice laid out
massively
at humanity’s feet.
O how we praise the whales’ song!
Call and response,
we cry out at their plight,
this ponderous revolt,
revolting,
inexplicable.
Perplexed by the beachings
we hope for a cetacean source,
for anything
but precisely the inevitable,
invisible
plastic tonnage within.
Breathing heavily
we spread the sea-soaked blankets
out across the sand
to dry.
Susceptible,
an altruistic sadness
overwhelms.
Meanwhile millions
of miniscule plastic fibers
fill the linings of our own
permeable
lungs.
Note from the author: Moby Dick remains at the top of my most-loved books. With a steadfast, delusional presumption of our dominance over nature, humankind relentlessly pursues great white whales while the outcasts, no matter how lucid, are helpless bystanders. Yet lately, I have been deeply moved by and grateful to witness the triumph of nature’s speed and purity. Vivid colors, high fidelity birdsong, soft sunsets. I hope this new clarity will lead to a grand push for environmental protection.
© Eleanor Close Kraft
Writer who gets design. Designer who gets to write. Born in the USA, in Switzerland since 1994. A strategic thinker with a poetic touch, I work with creative professionals and top management to create sustainable brand messages. Now more than ever, it’s time to get the writing right. Close Kraft: EN concept, copy, communication.