 | Luisa A. Igloria February 1 | Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. ~ Edward Lorenz A lifetime seems unimaginable. A long time, best read about in stories (been in some of those). Can you believe I, too, promised a lifetime, un- dated until the universal endpoint (death)? Every mother with a child in her arms rushes out from the baptistry, wanting to get to heaven first— Groupthink in another one of its forms, masquerading as history. How susceptible we are, because we aren't invulnerable. If only we could promise the dusky blue Javan rhino it doesn't need to fear extinction; or the kakapo, the Irawaddy dolphin, the leatherback and loggerhead turtle. An owl flew into the room where mother was on her sickbed, and this was how she knew no one could pull her back into the earthly world. O feathered trail with its retinue of ghosts and phantoms to walk with in passage. O sad, querulous heart, forever wanting to be held and yet ravenous for solitude—have faith in the leaping salmon: they navigate upstream currents, return to the places of their birth. Of great upheavals, what happens on the cellular level vies for significance with mountain fires and winds whipping across the wilderness. If only xylographs in rings of ancient trees could speak, yarrow-bright and healing. If only there were more zones we could shelter with cascades of wings. | | | |
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