Given the kindness and cruelty of time,
a majority forgot those years where
the tilt of the earth increased. Only
a degree. Or more. Scientists spoke,
we didn’t listen, lost in our own panic,
sick with adrenaline. Maybe others
were able to convince themselves
by repetition: It wasn’t that bad. We
pulled together. It wasn’t that bad.
What they omit is the months of still
night, a numbness that never left,
the dread- this situation was static,
we had buried our normality with axes
under the ice floes that spread arms
down from the north, over city towers,
consuming mountains, farms and futures.
A new ice age. Mostly I woke, limbs numb,
wondering how I would endure the day.
I always did. And given enough days,
even the glaciers melted and receded,
leaving behind new altered landscapes,
sun painted gifts for our patience.
Prompt was to “Write a poem including the words ‘forgot’, ‘maybe’ and ‘tilt’” from the Poetry in the Time of Being Alone Group