ENVIRONMENTAL Poem: River’s Forewarning, by Emma Bracken

I am as many worlds away from the
war stage as one can get:

The muddy banks of a
slow to drain river
playing catch with
the water dogs

Shells shift and squelch
into silt with every one
of Earth’s hitched breaths.

Even here, where the nearest
darkness is the lazy wing of
a crow draped from its nest,
it seems the world is still crying.

The vertigo of shame invades
my vision more often these days,
as I feel her mountain shoulders
heave and shiver.

I write an ode to running away
then let it melt in the brown current.

I am going somewhere—
regardless of this quicksand growing on my spirit
and my steps will either ease or upset
this fragile planet.

I must place them gently,
with care.

I must step out of the river,
eventually.

I must run back from away

and let loose the opacity of
naïveté, wring the wet neck
of ropes dry to the thread.

I am the Earth’s last-ditch effort
to save itself.