Now that I have become old I wish

I could write a poem expressing how I feel

That everything to which the earth gives birth

Every cat & dog & & newt & frog & stick & stone

Is so precious and so lovely, but maybe that

Is because about I am so soon to leave it,

For Aquinas says:


‘The last things to be said, especially by friends

who are about to leave us, are those best

remembered.  At such a time our love for

our friends is greatest, and what we love most

is what sinks deepest into our hearts.’


He was writing of Jesus’s last meal with  his friends

Before his passion that we remember in

The eucharist, the symbol of the gathering

Into one of everything that does, ever has,

Or ever will exist in the further dimension

Of the divine unity.  Will it be so? I do wonder.

Or are the atheists right when they tell us that

Death in only switching off the light  followed

By the long rot?  And how for future generations

The earth later this century will be devastated

In a  tragedy  so vast and terrible and awful  

We cannot imagine it, because this  generation

Is hell-bent on destroying our only mother  earth

And  so many of the precious and lovely things in it

(For the scientists are now pretty much

Agreed  that half the species that exist will

Have disappeared  by the end of the century 

And climate change will devastate us all).  I wish

 I could write all this in a poem but I cannot write it

So goodbye earth.  Let this be the poem I cannot write.




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