Where green seen tone of globe called sea,
not simply earth as planet named,
but vision, human monochrome,
the merge of shades in fleshy hex,
all grades between black and white dreams,
old ghosts dressed in a rainbow skin,
the promise bowing over world;
that is the scene to be fulfilled.
I would that timber, forest, shrub
caught carbon, noxious gases’ stream,
and waters coursing through dry land
should irrigate the budding crop
to feed health, symbiotic seeds.
I could wake from the deepest sleep,
and woke, ignore my critics rage,
their slings and arrows of despair,
bequest my infants life they need
and prompt my elders, tap their hope,
suggest now passed, a delayed nap,
their hackles raised can be laid flat.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion.
His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/