Midnight musings on resurrection day


If only our species had taken

a different path

Had not placed all bets

on our engorged organ of speech

our waxed out ears

our tightly clenched hands

grasping the plumage of bird

or scratching the clay tablet

with a reed?

Perhaps today there’d be no pontificating

about the Word, the Verb, the Book

no screaming our anguish into the winds

of six known continents

no sonar-ing our presence

to the vast boundless seas

disorienting whales

and insulting creatures of the deep


Better if we had learned the art

of rippling wave after wave

combating the strict notion of consecutive

threaded gingerly on the mystery of cause and effect

Wondered which underwater volcano, which land breeze

creature of gill or nostril

mused about coral and rock kinship

as colonies of stardust

majestically host frozen water

But as fate would have it

the curvature of the frame

now laid askew as the core boiled over

and the surface succumbed amid poisons


Not that it ever was the Word’s place

to record the collapse

to be the scribe of doom

Casting out short breaths

at different frequencies

the dominant species did its utmost

to shut out the rest of the Garden

Machete in hand it set off on its own

locked the gates of perception

organ after organ of knowledge

faltered failed, withered and fell dormant

while the rest of creation

in vain beseeched a hearing

as it was led to slaughter



And today all we have left

is a varied watery sing song

tongues of the drowned

drenched in confusion and rage


Did it all start when some fish

evolved lungs and blared out

the first sounds, their throats aghast

at their newfound power?

Yet not all creatures

chose to deny and neglect

all senses and instinct that bound them

to the whole, above, below and to the side

Humans honed their exclusivist talent

all the way to the fall of the Tower

incapable of taking a hint

kept on turning astray

from awe and complicity


And now that we have come to the final station

it may be too late to forfeit

our arrogance and humbly try to resurrect

who we could have been

All other paths are barred

but to crawl away from the center

and hope the planet will grant us a hearing

a chance at resurrection

a rekindling of the Garden,

a joyous partaking

together of the apple.


Pina Piccolo 9-10 April 2023