Susie Paine - Selected Writings

Barren wasteland, the crater of some long-ago impact,

a permanent scar on an airless world.

Remnants of civilization litter the landscape.

A leftover building, discarded food wrappers,

the waste of natural beings.

Tire tracks mar the layers of dust

and untouched footprints stand lonesome in the soil.

Most times the land is grey,

but the morning makes it into the color of peaches,

almost luminescent in its light and beauty.

A beautiful untouched landscape,

bewildering in its inviting, forbidding majesty.

At once, the curving land calls to all,

sends all away.

The land seems to hum, “Stay away. Come here. Stay away.”

Once upon a time, creatures came here,

on two legs, walking, skipping, flying through the air

to meet their destiny.

 

Creatures insulated by tiny houses,

sustaining them in the hostility of the environment.

The very universe tries to steal,

to take air, breath from their very lungs.

Crushed in a second, the creature’s bravery cannot be enough to save

anything from certain destruction.

Cowardice cannot save either,

cowardice and bravery make a deadly cocktail,

destroying the creatures that stir themselves to come.

But the creatures came,

and when they made perfect, too-perfect footprints in the dust,

the blue globe above them pulsed

with the shouts of more creatures,

celebrating one moment in the expanse of time.