By Sister Fran McManus, a Theological Reflection participant
“Didn’t used to be, didn’t used to be…,” they say.
“Thirty-year floods came just about on time;
now it seems every few years waters rage,
the angry brown swill testing the flood line.”
Grieving mother, nature reclaims her own,
old folktales and science facts agree:
sooner or later, we reap what we have sown.
We’ve pillaged the earth, fogged the air, fed our greed.
Black gold warmed our homes, smoldered in the hills,
filled our pockets, grayed the sky, invaded lungs;
once in mines, now in coughs and climate, King Coal kills.
Creeks rise, roads become streams, nature writes our wrongs.
The Susquehanna rages, then calms down;
we return to clean what’s left, mourn what’s gone.