911 and The High Holydays

Facing the truth of climate change

While greeting a sweet new year 

Or listing one’s petty sins

Is like getting ill 

When you thought you were well 

(but you weren’t). 

There I was,

I’d eaten my dinner, i was on the sofa

Watching TV

Some story streaming by 

And I realized

Oh, I don’t feel very good 

A little woozy 

And then, whoa, I was 

Trapped flat on the sofa by an

Unexpected attack of vertigo so fierce that

Up and Down became nostalgic jokes. 

Lifting my head plunged me into

Spatial displacement and feelings of peril so fierce

That I cried, and thought, 

Ah, this is what it’s like to have belief 

And then lose it,

Utter devastation as I contemplated the black hole

Where my naive faith in gravity used to live. 

So I dove back to the sofa to lay flat and steady,

Holding on to the comfort of the TV remote. 

It was two in the morning 

Before I allowed myself to wonder if I was dying,

Alone. 

Everyone I know who lives nearby has money and 

It’s August 

And they’re on vacation. 

Damn you, Maine. 

I was forced to admit that this was an emergency,

So embarrassing. 

I called 911.  

Existential vertigo

Is an apt and useful metaphor 

For the state of this planet. 

Out of whack and reeling,

Everything is new and wrong:

Disorientation, fear of death and nature gone awry.  

We had faith in our invulnerability and it’s gone. 

We used to be able to tell God we’re sorry once a year

And be comforted but

This is no longer possible,

This ain’t easily fixed with a penitent punch to the heart.  

Apples and honey won’t make this go away. 

So let us use this golden opportunity 

To ponder our mortality as a species

And then get to work. 

Admit that this is an emergency. 

So embarrassing.  

Call 911. 

Amen