Sunday, June 3, 2012

Sanctuary



image borrowed from bing


Sanctuary 
In my waking dreams
the sky is kelly green
like the creatures from dank depths
of greenish-grey seas who tired
of swimming in the dark trenches
and squirmed up on the land,
stood erect and claimed the planet
for themselves;
since
     the
       dawn
           primeval
                     when
                          the
                            great
                                 trees
                                     blacked
                                              out
                                                   the
                                                      sun
there have been some who understood
that nature’s essence is not red,
it is green
vegetables, weeds, clover, emeralds, frogs, jungles, moss
and fungus
between the toes of tigers,
in the whirls of the burls of beech, birch
and butternut giants;
green-green, all green, and
even after the coitus of death, 
that last great mortal orgasmic gasp,
leaves tarter on dead teeth,
mold on sun-bleached bones,
dances to the rhythms of rot
as flesh and wood decompose
making their malachite way back
to the bosky womb they blossomed from,
do yourself and the planet a favor--
rinse the blood off your hands and feet,
halt your virulent voracious journey
long enough to lie down in
a soft field of clover, loose
the green fire circulating in your chest,
open your loving arms to a green sun
and do not move to join the red legions
that will tramp by, 
their silver armor clanking,
their deadly pilum held high
because
even the dust mites could tell you--
hell and war
are not
green.
Glenn Buttkus
May 2012

Posted over on Magpie Tales 120

Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?

10 comments:

zongrik said...

the most interesting thing here was the concept of rinsing the blood of your feet, as opposed to your hands, or can it be an allusion to Islam, where you have to rinse your feet before a lot of things, like prayer....

Tess Kincaid said...

My favorite bit? "...whirls of the burls of beech, birch and butternut"

Kathe W. said...

green is good. Spectacular write.

Berowne said...

Who knew what went on between the toes of tigers? :-)

Brian Miller said...

nice...i like the enviromental message in this sir...we go about our day as if we were the ones the world revolves around and the rest is here for our pleasure but that is so self centered...the cascading line is nice...the red and green play early on sets up the washing of the blood well...nice

chiccoreal said...

Dear Glenn: Definitely a Green day all around..excellent tactile feel to green as you perused the precursor to curse at red...TO HELL WITH RED~!!!

Sue said...

Hail to the Green!

Well done.

=)

Laurie Kolp said...

So colorful, sensuous and a strong message.

Judy Roney said...

Wow, you really took this to another level..er, lower level I guess. This was really interesting to read, so much so, that I'll have another go. So much here to search and savor but since it is so green and black, I may not savor it quite so much!Great poem!

Stafford Ray said...

Great idea Glenn!
The message to me: We got here through green and will exit through red, unless we decide otherwise.