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<p>Dear Alternatives friends,</p>
<p>I just read the poem below, and although it is untitled, it
seemed to me to express the emotional truth of degrowth. Hope you
like it.</p>
<p>Christine<br>
</p>
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<p>‘Degrowth’ poem <br>
by Dara McAnulty<br>
p. 108 <br>
<i>Diary of a Young Naturalist</i> (2020)<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<i><b>Tuesday, 7 August</b></i><br>
<br>
When we began, our feet trod lightly<br>
Bare upon the earth, we were weightless<br>
Travellers, allowing resurgence and <br>
Regrowth, leaving enough.<br>
Reverence.<br>
<br>
Forging through millenia, we kept on<br>
Adding endless weight, a leadening<br>
Heaviness, leaving deep and lasting<br>
Indentations, sending shockwaves.<br>
Eliminating.<br>
<br>
Cruelty, cavernous greed, no impediment,<br>
Hands and feet became Industrial.<br>
Monsters, spewing toxicity, sickening,<br>
Deafening, echoing arrows.<br>
Piercing. <br>
<br>
Now thundering, trampling boundlessly. <br>
Decimating pathways once bountiful.<br>
We watch helplessly, numb and aching,<br>
Our hollow, haunting cries in empty spaces.<br>
Waiting.<br>
<br>
Stop. I hear hope, purposely striding.<br>
Footsteps pleading necessary action.<br>
Great minds whirring, channelling change,<br>
Demanding, respectfully our weight to<br>
Lessen.<br>
<br>
I want birdsong, abundant fluttering, <br>
Humming, no more poison or destruction,<br>
Growing for growth, it has to end. <br>
Will my generation see the rightful<br>
Rising?<br>
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