A generation later on, the environmentally sonorous poet Mary Oliver opened one of the centurys most precious poems with this tender sidewise rejoinder to the call of overwhelming responsibility: “You do not have to be good./ You do not have to walk on your knees/ For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting./ You just have to let the soft animal of your body/ enjoy what it enjoys.”
“Yours is a grave and sobering obligation, however it is likewise a shining opportunity,” the poet turned marine biologist Rachel Carson told a gathering of young individuals about to start their lives as she was leaving hers, having actually catalyzed the modern-day environmental motion with her bold 1962 book Silent Spring “Mankind is challenged, as it has never ever been challenged before,” she informed the coming generations in what became her sensational and sobering goodbye, “to show its maturity and its proficiency– not of nature, but of itself.”
THE BIG PICTUREby Ellen Bass
I try to look at the big photo. The sun, ardent tonguelicking us like a mom besotted
with her new cub, will use itself out. Everything is transitory.Think of the meteor
that annihilated the dinosaurs.And before that, the volcanoesof the Permian duration– all those charred ferns
and reptiles, sharks and bony fish– that was termination on a scalethat makes our losses look like a bad day at the slots.
And perhaps were slated to ascendto some kind of intelligencethat does not require bodies, or clean water, or even air.
I cant shake my longingfor the last 6 hundredIberian lynx with their tufted ears,
Brazilian guitarfish, the 4percent of them still cruisingthe seafloor, eyes looking straight up.
And all the newborn marsupials– red kangaroos, joeys the size of honeybees– steelhead trout, river dolphins, all we can conserve
Numerous types of frogs breathing through their wet permeable membranes.
Today on the bus, a womanin a sweatshirt the exact shade of cardinals, and her cardinal-colored bra strap, exposed
on her pale shoulder, makes me ache for those brilliant flashes in the snow. And polar bears, the cream and amber
of their fur, the long, hollowhairs through which sun slips, swallowed into their dark skin. when I get home
my son has a headache and, though hes almost grown, asks me to sing him a song. We lie together on the lumpy sofa
and I warble out the old program tunes, “Night and Day” … ” They Cant Take That Away from Me” … A cheap silver chain shimmers across his throat
falling and increasing with his pulse. There never ever was anything else. Only these excruciatingly insignificant animals we like.
Enhance with Marie Howes sweeping “Singularity”– that crowning curio in the poetic canon of collective and individual self-awareness as small and feeling creatures aglow with prospective amid a large and unfeeling universe– and the young poet Marissa Daviss sensational response to Howes poem, then review Jane Hirshfields kindred-colored perspectival masterpiece “Today, Another Universe.”
A generation later, the environmentally sonorous poet Mary Oliver opened among the centurys most beloved poems with this tender sidewise rejoinder to the call of overwhelming duty: “You do not need to be good./ You do not have to walk on your knees/ For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting./ You just have to let the soft animal of your body/ love what it likes.”
Another generation later on, in the middle of a sixth extinction the function of a stopped working civilizational responsibility, the poet Ellen Bass twines these beliefs and sensibilities in her incredible poem “The Big Picture”– an uncommon masterpiece of point of view, tremendous and intimate, initially released in her 2007 collection The Human Line (public library), and check out here by artist, poetry-steward, Carsonite, and my dear good friend Amanda Palmer.