I hate to do this but I have to put this poem up that I wrote in 1999. It is in my book, The Post Apocalyptic Diary. Im thinking of changing the title to The Pre-Post Apocalyptic Diary. I left a paragraph here so you can get an idea. This is one of the last things Mandy wrote. She wrote it for me cause of what the children have done to the good mother. You better pray the sun comes out. You need to start being independent. Get the people to start trading for more seeds. Get yourself a book out of that big library on the Mainland. A book about growing things. Artificial seed growing houses arent natural. You need to work this land. Those people up on the Mainland are going back to their old ways. Their egos are lying to them, telling them they can have it back the way it was. You pray hard, the sun comes out. Now, Im gonna read this to you, then Im going back to my flute. I know she told you in the diary how she imagined it all began, well, this is how she imagined it all ended. This poem is a great lesson. You remember it when you make important decisions later on. It’s not very pretty. Actually, it’s pretty scary that she saw it coming.” The Mercy Killing We suspected she was ill for some time. There were tell-tale traces of the sickness, but they were camouflaged in lies. We could afford the best doctors and all the world pitched in. We should have listened instead of making excuses. When she began to pale, we were all in denial. No one wanted to call in the foreigners. God, forbid, we cant heal our own. The family finally prayed together, the first time in her history. Even her nervous system was under attack. Peptides raced violently across synapses, barreling through the wrong receptors. Drained of her life-giving plankton, she lay there confused, her memory failing. All her systems were deteriorating and we all prayed for a miracle. Her blue nightgown began to emit a foul smell, so that now even the family was held at bay. I remember tracing the white lace that encircled her gown for the last time, knowing none of us would ever do that again. She willed that all her treasures go with her, when she exhausted. Relatives near and far were astounded. No one truly knew her wealth. It had been years since anyone took inventory. And no one could stop her from taking it all with her to the grave. When her breathing became deathly labored, the doctors set aside their egos and sent for help. At last, the foreigners came from space. It is too late! said the leader. “There is no magic we can do. We have been watching for thousands of years from afar. And now you ask us to intervene. The doctors hung their heads, walking away like zombies, for they feared repercussions from the foreigners. She was taking the inheritance with her and leaving nothing! The foreigners heard the family squabbling as they eyed the blue and white mantle. There was no sound from her mouth, as she writhed in unbearable pain. Even the foreigners knew, her pain was unacceptable, unforgiving. As the family began to wince and moan, the leader addressed them solemnly. It is written in your books The meek shall inherit the earth, but I say to you There will be no inheritance, for there are not enough meek among you. This beautiful event is dying before your very eyes, and what care have you, but for yourselves? As your Moses once said So be it. We cannot let the beautiful blue linger on and possibly infect the cosmos. Extending his long gray finger, he added And all the bacteria with it. As he ascended to the silver disk, we knew. They were going to destroy us. We were the infection that was spreading. The manifestation of our very thoughts and the technology we developed without escape, had penetrated the blue and white mantle, infecting it. His words echoed through the people like a ghostly chill. We will not watch as this precious beautiful event suffers anymore. The stagnant smell of algae was blowing east from the ocean, and the sun was dimmer than yesterday. Her veins collapsed as she sunk into unconsciousness. Thunder roared above them as well as below. The mercy killing had begun. Josephs mouth was wide open. Swallowing hard, he asked, You mean the aliens Papa told me about
Posted on: Fri, 25 Oct 2013 06:29:33 +0000
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