Day 149

photo by Michelle Johnsen

photo by Michelle Johnsen

Tell me your stories.

Your legends, your myths.

The songlines that lead your young across miles of wild ocean,

waves crashing into shore below.

Do you tell them in words?

Describe the mountains and valleys, the quiet forests so far away?

Or are ancient maps written in dreams,

wrapped around their sleeping bodies in soft, green cocoons?

Is it hard to leave?

The broad leaved milkweed with its’ bitter latex sap?

Or do your tiny hearts beat hard, with excitement,

at fate’s strong hand guiding you

over land and sea?

You are brave

for one so small.


on tissue paper wings.

My heart breaks when I think of you reaching the dark forests,

and the golden fields,


so ready for rest, for celebration.

Only to find acres clear-cut,

dry dust where

shady trees grew before, dying plants

where they used to stand tall and green.

Do you fall to your knees?

Wrap brightly colored wings around the small bodies of the ones you love and sob?

Do you pray to any Gods who will listen for mercy, for healing,

for faith?

Because I do.

In the middle of writing this, had to wrap my arms around my small sleeping son, and sweet husband, and sob.

And the worst part. In the words of my dear friend. “I am complicit.”

And I am,

typing here,

under the electric light,

searching for connection in a glowing computer screen,



insane with grief.

I can’t stand what’s happening on this planet right now.

I can’t stand being a part of it, participating in the methodical dismantling of

our beautiful world.

Dreading the day when my son learns of the Monarchs,

through our own myths and legends.

Winged ones,


to stories.

Living things

made dead.

I am so, so sorry everyone.

It’s not supposed to be this way.


Thank you for listening.



photo by Wilson Alvarez

photo by Wilson Alvarez





3 responses to “Broken

  1. sobbing right there / here with you
    and feeling a great grief

  2. Thank you Natasha and Marneymae for the honest expressions. I was so lucky to have a childhood in the 1970s filled with great thick clusters of monarchs stopped along the shores of Lake Michigan during their migrations.

    This song is my cry to this world and our falling lost on the way, “Oh, Civilization.”

    • Beautiful, Dan. Thank you for sharing. It means so much to connect with others who love this planet. Love, Natasha

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