Article voiceover
My Love, I Was Here First
after yet another zoom meeting
advocating for Rights of Nature,
i go to the banks of the Swannanoa River.
she’s disappointed in me.
i don’t think she furious
yet still…
i can’t bring myself to tell her
we had asked our state senator
to back Rights of Nature;
the senator demurred.
the committee is in disarray.
i don’t dare tell her that the source
stems from what it always does:
a lack of kinship.
i hear the River say
you are talking about yourselves again.
of course, she’s right.
the River whispers,
the poet said:
language does not solve everything.
the poet favors silence,
line breaks,
and blank spaces.
the River speaks louder,
i will tell you this:
i don’t ask you anything.
i don’t ask about your ancestors,
or your belief system,
or who you love.
i don’t ask what your stockholders want,
though i do act out my discontent
when you defile me.
i don’t charge admission
before i fill your glass with water.
my love, i was here first,
then the land,
then the skunk cabbage.
you are miles from understanding me.
hear me when i say:
i don’t ask you anything
before i gift you water.
Yikes, you’ve brought your readers inside this contentious space where minds may think but definitely don’t see. I think the policy makers need to get their boots on and take a walk with you.
Truth. Powerful words,, Katharine.
What I was immediately struck by was the simple overarching presence of the river by virtue of capitalising to River, and the diminution of the self through I becoming i. Loved this.