I think I'll miss the world as I know it small body in a big city life-web woven with purple sky star scarcity and decaf lattes the rhythm of the hurry I think I'll miss the world as I know it free of responsibility unbothered untethered moisturised maximised in my lane I think I’ll miss the numbness I think I'll miss the lightness tired of grief, I'm chasing avoidance can’t carry climate, can’t swallow sky so am I spectator, perpetrator or victim? as in, what do I grieve and what do I carry, and what do I hold close to the chest? chest collapsed on the out-breath exhale exhale inhale exhale the whole world collapsed into that one-two rhythm control clench exert gasp gasp pause hold sigh release in out inhale exhale first the end end of the world end of a world exhale exhale and then loss and then inhale and then breath begins again and again and again and maybe if we speed up maybe if we slow down it might be enough to stop the deluge but it won’t the seawalls stretch longer every time I visit home and we can’t hold back the ocean every day up to 150 species are lost every day up to 150 species are lost as colour drains from the reef mourning makes my city strange to think the apocalypse is yet to come I must be pretty far away from the earth
Frances Grimshaw is a geographer and poet of Irish, German, and English heritage. Both their academic and creative work investigates how emotions, place and temporality shape the human experience in the context of environmental crises. This poem was written on Wadawurrung Country.
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