Katy Z. Allen

Katy Z. Allen
Wayland, Massachusetts

Yah is at my right hand, I shall not falter.

Maltreatment, disregard, cruelty,
abuse, defilement, contamination
do not go unnoticed,
by the corporeal or the incorporeal,
whether inflicted upon
an individual or a people,
a species or an ecosystem,
an atmosphere or a planet.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.

Aftereffects
aftershocks
continue
for years, decades, generations,
millennia.

Truth springs up from the Earth; justice looks down from heaven.

As an individual,
I have lived the impact.
Among too many peoples,
I have seen the devastation.

I call to You, my Rock, do not disregard us.

Regarding countless species
I have witnessed disappearance.
For ecosystems large and small,
I have mourned their loss.

Deep calls to deep.

With the Earth and the air
I have felt the trauma
in my lungs
               and in my bones
in my cells
              and in my vessels
in my heart
                            and in my soul.

Hear my prayer, O LORD, and let my outcry come to You.

Psalms cited: 16:8, 130:1, 85:12, 28:1, 47:2, 39:13

By Katy Z. Allen
Wayland, Massachusetts

sitting by a stream
enveloped in subtle autumn beauty
feeling solid ground beneath
breathing invisible life-giving air
awareness awakens

verdant summertime leaves
conceal yellows and oranges
reds
maroons
and complexity beyond measure

introduced species small and large
exotic flora and fauna
suppress more delicate autochthones
of many hues
small and large
and complexity beyond measure

death, demolition and destruction
hide and inflame
grief and fear
despair
desolation
and complexity beyond measure

rising seas and rampaging wildfires
screaming winds and persistent drought
overshadow and obliterate connection
to earthy soil and solid rock
iron core of earth
and complexity beyond measure

sitting by a stream
watching beloved children at play

quietly
unexpectedly
touching grief
beyond words
   beyond comprehension
      beyond endurance

that simmers steadily

in the silent static
and active living
earth

in expansive and tortured
human realms

and in the deepest
most hidden
most vulnerable
recesses of the soul

complexity beyond measure

By Katy Z. Allen
Wayland, Massachusetts

One October morning, 
the Merlin app on my phone
heard
only a single dark-eyed Junco.
Nothing else.

My ears
heard
cars and trucks on the road beside my house,
distant heavy machinery, clanging and banging,
and a chainsaw
not far off.
No birds.

My imagination
heard
the trills and chatter of the woodland edge
during the dawn course of spring–
cedar waxings, red wing blackbirds,
yellowthroats, rose-breasted grosbeaks,
and more.
So many birds.

My imagination
heard
the silence of the woods and meadows
punctuated only by the murmuring wind in the trees,
bird calls,
animals scuttering in the litter
and water tumbling in a rushing creek.
Nothing more.

My heart
heard
the single Junco aching for the absent birds
and filled the space around it
with varied and myriad passerines
from my memory and my imagination.

May they not all
disappear.