I wish one would not have to write this stuff. But "othering" the environment - through labeling and name-calling, and imagining that the environment is something you "enjoy on weekends" "elsewhere," has come back to bite us. Big time.
This poem has been in me for a while.
Othering the Environment
When they began felling trees, I did not speak up —
Because I was not a “tree-hugger”
When they began damming rivers, I did not speak up —
Because I was not an “eco-nut”
When they began mining under forests, I did not speak up —
Because I was not an “environmentalist”
When they sprouted polluting industries, I did not speak up —
Because I was not a “greenie”
When the rain vanished, and taps ran dry, temperatures soared, and a thick air turned brown, I wanted to speak up —
But it was too late.
(Channeling my inner Niemoller)
