shall grandma tell you?

In the near future,

Shall Grandma tell you a story of before?

Floating in the Pacific,

Eager fish brushing against her fingertips.

Powdered mountaintops, 

Bright eyes taking in the wonder.

Orderly seasons,

Bitter frost never disrupting those temperate days.

Aromatic bulbs,

Bustling to grow on the boundless green.

We plucked so many, so carelessly—

Grandma should’ve saved some, for you.

 

In the near future,

Shall Grandma make you envious of her lifestyle?

How her joy came from unlimited consumption,

Traveling miles and staring at the serpentine sunrise

Exploring A world that’s now blemished beyond repair.

Every corner she walked was exploited by so many

Yet all she did was relish in its diminishing beauty.

 

In the near future,

Shall Grandma speak of true greed?

Thick, black oil, in the lungs of 

Multi-colored life you’ve only ever seen on a screen.

Shall Grandma speak of the record-breaking speed of disappearing ice

Dripping onto vacation lodges?

Shall Grandma speak of the alarm bells that rang

In the mouths of children her age,

Fighting with them as much as she could,

Until, she, too, realized assimilating to exploitation

Was easier than resisting it?

 

Dear Grandchild,

I cannot tell you to fight,

I can only apologize

For your reality brought upon 

Our lack of gratitude,

Our lack of strategic unity,

Our plentiful sins.

For Grandma has a secret,

She wasn’t born in the before,

The before came before all of us were born.

She spent most of her years in the near-end of a limbo,

Of a world able to heed the warnings,

Ruled by nature and its blessings,

Or a corporate-ran, carbon-loving entity

That we found it easier to bow down to

Than defy.