Here Poems for the planet

Earth itself engendered poetry as people everywhere were moved to express awe, wonder, gratitude, and fear over the beauty, mystery, and ultimate power of the planet. But now that our species has changed the very nature of nature, our concerns about the future of the living world and ourselves have intensified, our responsibilities multiplied. With a clarion foreword by the Dalai Lama and A Guide to Activism provided in closing by the Union of Concerned Scientists, this encompassing and complexly affecting anthology representing 125 contemporary poets from around the world, both well known (Mary Oliver, W. S. Merwin, Pattiann Rogers, Kwame Dawes, Natalie Diaz, Joy Harjo) and emerging, addresses the full spectrum of our responses to environmental challenges. Poet and lawyer Coleman, who runs a foundation devoted to environmental issues, has perceptively selected poems that reawaken us to the beauty of the earth, mourn losses and perils, and summon urgency and a sense of possibility. By so exquisitely and compassionately illuminating our planetary predicament, these spirited poems of diverse perspectives inspire us to step forward in hope.--Donna Seaman Copyright 2019 Booklist

be carefulEd Roberson i must be careful about such things as these.the thin-grained oak. the quiet grizzlies scaredinto the hills by the constant tracks squeezingin behind them closer in the snow. the snaredrigidity of the winter lake. deer after deercrossing on the spines of fish who look up and starewith their eyes pressed to the ice. in a sleep. hearingthe thin taps leading away to collapse like the bearin the high quiet. i must be careful not to shakeanything in too wild an elation. not to jarthe fragile mountains against the paper far-ness. nor avalanche the fog or the eagle from the air.of the gentle wilderness i must set the precariouswords. like rocks. without one snowcapped mistakeRuin and BeautyPatricia YoungIt's so quiet now the children have decided to stopbeing born. We raise our cups in an empty room.In this light, the curtains are transparent as gauze.Through the open window we hear nothing-no airplane, lawn mower, no sirenspeeding its white pain through the city's traffic.There is no traffic. What remains is all that remains.The brick school at the five points crosswalkis drenched in morning glory.Its white flowers are trumpetsfestooning this coastal town.Will the eventual forest rise upand remember our footsteps? Alreadyseedlings erupt through cement,crabgrass heaves through cracked marble,already wolves come down from the hillsto forage among us. We are like them now,just another species looking to the starsand howling extinction.They say the body accepts any kind of sorrow,that our ancestors lay down on their stomachsin school hallways, as children they lay down like matches waiting for a nuclear fire.It wasn't supposed to end like this:all ruin and beauty, vines waterfalling downa century's architecture; it wasn't supposed to endso quietly, without fanfare or fuss,a man and woman collecting rainin old coffee tins. Darling,the wars have been forgotten.These days our quarrels are only with ourselves.Tonight you sit on the edge of the bed loosening your shoes.The act is soundless, without futureweight. Should we name this failure?Should we wake to the regret at the end of timedoing what people have always doneand say it was not enough?InvitationAimee Nezhukumatathil Come in, come in. The water's fine! You can't get losthere. Even if you want to hide behind a clutch of spiny oysters--I'll find you. If you ever leave me at night, by boat, you'll see the arrangement of red-gold sun stars in a sea of milk. And thoughit's tempting to visit them--stay. I've been trained to gaze up all my life, no matter the rumble on earth, but I learned it's okay to glance down into the sea. So many lessons bubble up if you knowwhere to look. Clouds of plankton churning in open whale mouths might send you east and chewy urchins will slide you west. Squid know how to be rich when you have ten empty arms.Can you believe there are humans who don't value the feel of a good bite and embrace at least once a day? Underneath you, narwhals spin upside down while their singular tooth needles youlike a compass pointed towards home. If you dive deep enough where imperial volutes and hatchetfishswim, you will find all the colors humans have not yet named, and wide caves of black coral and clamshell.A giant squid finally let itself be captured in a photograph, and the paper nautilus ripple-flashes scarlet and two kinds of violet when it silvers you near. Who knows what will happen next? And if you still wantto look up, I hope you see the dark sky as oceanic--boundless, limitless--like all the shades of blue in a glacier. Listen how this planet spins with so much fin, wing, and fur. Excerpted from HERE: Poems for the Planet All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.