The Riddle Of The Moving Statues

Blessed,

Here is a poem I wrote entitled The Riddle Of The Moving Statues.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X5IQiGiUrs&feature=youtu.be

I wrote it using cuttings from an old issue of National Geographic magazine as part of an ongoing Creative Development project exploring the self. Thanks to the help of my collaborator Zika Crowned who read and edited for me, we were able to put together a little video. I hope you enjoy it =)

(PS- If you search for Faith In A Jar on Youtube you will find a whole channel where I have uploaded video footage from past posts, and many more to come! Apologies for the annoying lack of proper links, Blogger is feeling uncooperative.)


The Riddle Of The Moving Statues

Born in a bruised supercell
by mana, a spiritual force transmitted by powerful ancestors
landscape acquired in the aura of tragedy
descended into civil war and cannibalism.

A dying tornado like this one is said to be in the "roping out" phase.
Whether the story is the island as a cautionary parable: the most extreme case of a society wantonly destroying itself by wrecking it's environment.
Can the whole planet, Diamond asks, avoid the same fate?

But the story is different
don't trust oral history

Rearrange and reinterpret the scattered shards of fact, though,
and you get a more optimistic vision.
No two storms are the same.
No two skies are either.
It was a tough place to make a living.
It required heroic efforts
and some in storm
conspire to paint blusterous murals and apocalyptic tableax.
To document these awe inspiting tempests,
emblems of human resilience and ingenuity

The collapse of their isolated civilization
play host to thousands of visible, violent storms.
This one crept over
isolated no more,
seductive, but not easy.