I went on a horseback ride with friends in Pungo, VA. While on the ride, the trail guide shared stories about the changing landscape due to climate change. It reminded me that as a child, I could find seashells in the soil of my front yard in SLC, Utah– remainders of Lake Bonneville from tens of thousands of years ago. The water is currently reclaiming land that it covered in ages past. Something about that makes me feel less fearful.
DADGAD tuning
Down in the miry marshes with loblolly pines
choking heat stirs the bullfrogs and cicadas to sing
my tea-stained waves lap the crowded coastline
cloaking bathing beauties and waterfowl wings
The moon briefly made my boundary relent
but I will take it back
Take it back, take it back, take it back
Far away, I covertly assemble near the arctic blaze
a continent erodes, while time shaves sheets of ice
here, frightened farmsteads fold by swollen roadways
old timers ponder shifting plates and lightning strikes
Somewhere a factory filters dregs into my stream
but I will take it back
Take it back, take it back, take it back
I must rise and swell, an imminent, ill-fated view
offered no alternative, stripped, overtaken, abused
I once hoped for harmony, to share the line with you
Like fingers lovingly entwined, our bonds of nature fused
V3
Before humans took holiday on my splendid shores
or fisherman foraged my banks for their cupboards
ancient sand beds stretched, keeping other scores
revealing relics of the land that I once covered
My lines receded once, I made room for you
but I will take it back
Take it back, take it back, take it back
A din of desperation I would gladly refute,
but as of now, I cannot take it back.
Take it back, take it back, take it back