The Extinction Parade

Marching towards the sun

I am dying.

I am flying.

I am rushing towards the sun.

And I am not the only one.

Crisp white light, like that of an arctic summer night, washes over me, fills me, thrills me.

I don’t look back. That world’s gone black and fuzzy in my mind.

And I’ve left it all behind.

Carried on a whisper of birdsong, I travel along an ancient path.

Beside me fly a flock of Brazilian Macaws who took to the sky when their Amazonian home died a fiery death.

Today their relatives can only be found in cages, where they are bereft of ties to their native world.

And I hear the keening sound of an African elephant, yearning, pleading, crying for her infant daughter, who was left standing beside her tuskless, dying mother, lying in a pool of blood.

Their matriarchal herd has grown smaller today by one.

The wisdom of the ages is trickling away, and, one day, might be gone, vanished from this earth, forever.

The sun’s embrace welcomes many new faces, driven from their homes.

Now, they, too, roam the path of the ancient ones.

Beside me, an Amur Leopard treads. He has traveled far from his familiar forested Russian home, now denuded of trees, whose bones will never rest in the earth.

A monarch lands upon the tip of a rhino’s horn, and a marmot and a tiny frog also adorn the path of light.

A Sumatran Tiger roars, and strides without fear to

where?

It feels so familiar, and I am beginning to be aware of why this evasive place soothes me so.

A vaquita and a cheetah just went by.

And, behind me, I hear the cry of something I’ve never before heard.

Is there a word for a creature we’ve not yet seen who is already extinct?

I think back to where I’ve been.

It’s getting dimmer, but still I remember some things.

Birds used to sing more.

Polar bears did not have to swim so far between icebergs.

And pandas were not a remnant of the world only viewed in a zoo.

It saddens me.

And I am sure it saddens you too.

But there are things that we can do.

It’s worth the fight.

I turn to the light.

And I kick away.

I will return another day.

The tug on me is fierce, but I know I need to pierce that filmy veil once more.

There is work to do.

And I need to offer myself to the aid of our precious Mother Earth.

Erika Burkhalter 2019

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

Although the topic of this poem is sad, I do believe that the tide of awareness has turned, and that a wave of understanding of how interconnected we all are is growing. Together, we have the power to save our Mother Earth.

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Poem and photos ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.