Poem: Lights Out

Darkness. Scamper to the window, Swipe aside the dusty curtain.

Scamper to the window,
Swipe aside the dusty curtain.
I am not the only one looking out into the night.
I hold one of the sets of eyes straining to learn if I live in the pitch black alone.
But in our powerless solidarity, we are not alone.
We, the people who pay the bills expecting energy in return, are not alone.
As the ice thickens around every outside object in this frigid downpour,
I indoors shiver, knowing the ice in my freezer will eventually thaw.
The sun rises again,
And bare branches and power lines encapsulated in ice catch the new day’s light.
We borrow natural illumination because our own lamps can’t shine themselves.
We turn to collective prayer that the lines will become live again,
But that prayer is action,
Calling our loved ones with the last moments of phone battery, our sign of true love.
Ice did not turn out my lights,
Codified greed did.
Power lines can’t repair themselves,
But as some people’s pursuit of earthly wealth destroys the earth,
Mother Earth is healing herself in the only way she knows how:
Melting the glaciers, scorching the land,
Saving herself.
Once-in-a-lifetime storms are part of her eternity.
And she will adapt to keep her own lights on, regardless of what we do in our darkness.

Planet Detroit and Room Project partnered to curate and publish climate poems from our community. Read the rest of the poems here.


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