Posted in Climate Change, Planetary renewal, poetry

Here in the Now

All our personal griefs
(I remember standing by a grave)
prepare us for this now
(a casket being lowered)
this time of crisis
(a marriage ripped apart)
the known torn asunder
(a beloved gone).

The old normal swept away
in storms, fires and floods.
We can’t go back to what was.
What was made what now is.

The life that we knew
with all its joys and laughter
no longer there to hold us.
The familiar injustices,
the predictable inequalities
exposed now for all to see.

Changing with the climate
here now at the brink
we stand on hallowed ground,
the creative power of transformation
birthing in uncertainty.

Working for the best present, this shifting, dysynchronous, pre-apocalyptic nowThat is your challenge this week. What does the landscape of this look like where you live and celebrate your being?”


I'm an artist and a writer living by the coast in southern Oz.

38 thoughts on “Here in the Now

  1. your final word – uncertainty – where we stand, knife sharpness cutting into our feet.

    or perhaps we’ve already been cut, and are falling to one or the other side, the slice too keen for us to sense. I’m not sure, anymore. ~


        1. Oh no. Do you have a garden? I’m finding mine is a bolt hole these days even though there is a lot of trafffic noise. I arent getting out much because of all the summer tourists and omicron


          1. Not exactly a garden. The photos on my blog tend to be taken on our bit of land, almost five acres of meadow. That’s the problem. We’re in a rural area, very quiet and out of the way, and the hunters love it. I never go out even to walk around our place on a Sunday morning because they are bound to be there, just the other side of the hedge or the stream. As for walking further afield, I wear bright clothes carry a big stick and never go anywhere alone. Just in case.

            Liked by 1 person

          2. How horrible! The world is crazy place right now. You have that. I have the frantic deck builders of suburbia and the mega developments on the coast all around me. Finding a harmonious place to life is very tricky right now.


  2. How did I not see how to connect the preparation we have had for this moment. Your first stanza is a brilliant recall, worthy of the uncertain birth of transformation. And wasn’t my latest book “Grieving into Love”? and, I think all the best sci/fi/fantasy follows the plot of your poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What a fascinating comment. I’m finding your blog hard to access. I’ll go through the Earthweal links later today and get to your blog that way. I’d didn’t know you are a scifi/fantasy writer. I’m finishing up my own novel right now with a view to publish in February.


        1. I started out calling the book I’m writing sci-fi but it didn’t quite fit the genre. Now I call it eco fiction. I had to look up Station Eleven. Yes I have read it a few years ago but had forgotten about it. I read a synopsis this afternoon and remebered the story. It is very compelling writing.


  3. The disrupted being articulated in the early stanzas speaks for a global mood – bereaved, divorced — color the mood of global disruption; and as the personal upheavals teach us that wounds are wombs, so too your poems ends with a beginning: “the creative power of transformation / birthing in uncertainty” – We begin there. Great response to the challenge Suzanne.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. It’s wonderful when people see what I’m getting at in these poems. I’m finding them hard (yet necessary) to write at present as I’m doing the final edit on my novel which takes a deep dive into many of the issues Earthweal prompts raise. I’m tempted to take a break for a few weeks and get the job done – then another Monday rolls around and I read another catalytic Earthweal prompt and find I have to respond. This one came from a deep place. I like your thought that our wounds are wombs. Thanks so much for your insightful comment.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Sorry to disrupt your novel with these prompts! Hopefully the work you do here is helping the work you do elsewhere. And your voice is so important to the planetary poetry we together are crafting. Thanks so much for being present and accounted throughout.


        1. I like the distraction sometimes and yes Earthweal prompts have often helped my other writing. 😊 Thanks so much on your comment about my poetry. I need the feedback sometimes. Lots of people find me very weird!


  4. may there come a time
    upon this sacred earth
    when we all dance as one

    The last judgement perhaps ?

    we must all keep on
    keeping on trying
    get back up on deck
    and beat the bastards

    Good poem Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

  5. what a thought-provoking poem! The first stanza is presenting a soul-touching statement: all those things the poet/you/we held dear are in the process of being buried (a casket being lowered), followed by the supporting facts that are happening around the world (stanza 2 and 3). The last stanza is the essence of this message “transforming” power that could go either way (uncertainty). and the poet is visualizing the world of her choice : Dancing as one! (read lines in the picture). A absolutely powerful poem! Love it.


  6. l love the hope in that closing stanza…. “we stand on hallowed ground” – the springboard of our transformation – or, if we ignore it, something more devastating. Sigh. Capitalism prevents the transformation we so desperately need, but those in power are loathe to give up the status quo.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Profound words, Suzanne. At least through our grief we still have ‘creative power of transformation’ or even the transformational power of creation…


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