Poetry Tuesday: "Eschatology"

Here we are, in another version of the end of the world--yesterday was an interesting/breathtaking mix of news stories about the new corona virus and the stock market barreling downward, making history in a way that no one wants.

We've been here before, although the threat might be different this time.  Will the new corona virus be more like the 1918 flu, AIDS, or something that just dies out or morphs into something fairly harmless?

Many of us have weathered dizzying stock fluctuations too.  It's a good day to remember what religious traditions have advised about where we put our treasures and our hearts.

Yes we've been here before--perhaps in a worse space, in past decades.  I remember telling a class of students about my college era nuclear fears, and they looked at me as if I was deranged. I said, "Never count on the apocalypse"--and later, while they worked on their essays, I worked on a poem, which later was published in The Powhatan Review.

And before I leave us with the poem, can I just remember how much I once loved this word? I still do, but it's like a college roommate, with whom I once had daily tea and conversation, but we've now moved to different parts of the continent.

I loved it in its modern, dystopian connotation and its more ancient, Greek connotation. I love those passages of the Bible that warn us of the end, although Revelation is my least favorite book.

But it's been awhile since I used that word. I fear it may be coming back to live with me now.


Eschatology


Do not fear the apocalypse.
There are worse things than to be consumed
by the conflagration that claims
a generation. At least you know your part in history.

Do not count on the apocalypse.
You may be one of the lucky ones,
escaping genocide, only to face the oblivion
of old age, the greatest war criminal of all.

Do not embrace the apocalypse.
Cling stubbornly to the promise of resurrection.
Believe that even after nuclear winter,
Spring will thaw the ground.