Art & Poetry

Laudato Si

by: Audrey McHugh

 

The silent sanctuary of Nature’s bloom, 

speak psalms and proverbs yet unknown.

If acid rain were healed by prayer

restored as pure, from whence it came

above the mountain’s terraced tops.

But  now pollution’s earthly shroud

forming ‘round a mortal cloud,

obscures the birth of extinction.

 

Soon the sacred soil of Spring,

odorous, a putrid thing, seeing

amber waves of glory groan,

and plastic waste clog ocean foam.

The beloved beasts that won’t be born,

will mock mankind, and mourn.

 

The loss of Eden once again,

the genesis of mortal men.

Will Adam stake his reclaimed home?

For Nature cannot stand alone.

The Redwood Grove

by: Audrey McHugh

 Once a timeless redwood grove,

 whose green leaves waved in the sunlight

 red sturdy trunks that outlived 

 the birth and death of nations,

 their gnarled feet wicks

 that fire blackened but did not consume,

 these survivors of glacial freeze and devastating drought,

 have met a violent end.

 

 Felled by wanton lumbering,

 on a scale measured in human greed,

 Earth’s tallest trees crashed on the ground

 their dismembered branches left to rot,

 abandoned by the hummingbird,

 mourned by the goldfinch, warbler and the bees.

 and by the mountains that know they’re gone.

 

 Redwood dust clings to hikers 

 walking in the graveyard

 amid the ruins of the trees cathedral,

 and from the sky, where birds won’t fly,

 the branches, stumps and stones,

 a place they once called home

 and where mankind came only to worship.

Heedless

by: Audrey McHugh 

                        

From the morning just born

out of the night’s light

awakening from our slumber,

warning in precious time,

our refrain a carrion call,

an angelus for mankind          

        

Scarcely heard though scorned

the watchman sits, calling, calling,

by the wayside ,weak and lame,

until a  future mourning

pays the price for our distain.

 

Deliver us from this day dawning,

of deadly seas, our whole life longing

for blue whales fins and woodpecker wings

the Sylvan rivers, the hope that springs

We can be stewards transforming life

If blessed and broken we became.