climate psalm

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was born in September. She writes and sings, and studies at the faculty of “Artes Liberales” at the University of Warsaw. She gets involved against industrial farming, inequalities and climate change. She believes in political art. She lives in the Bielany district of Warsaw.

in a former life
I crammed ripe blueberries into my mouth
separated the trash for recycling
we drew up wills
saved our money

and soaked in bubbles
limiting water from the tap

we’d finish leftovers
help our friends
talk on and about the revolution
I was against violence
you founded collectives
I was a believer then
a true believer
that good would overcome

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now I walk away
staring at the scrim of sky
because you sloughed off your skin
because your skin sloughed you off
I am the sand in your navel
and I nestle in the ash

Author’s commentary:

Sometimes I look at the forest and think that maybe things aren’t so bad, as long as I can hear the tap of a woodpecker. Together my partner and I go to protests and demonstrations, save water, don’t eat animals. We don’t have children (thanks to #BirthStrike) and we vacation in Warmia (because of #FlyingLess). We do all these things with urgency since in a yet unseen ‘soon’, that catastrophic ‘something’ might happen, and then I’ll want to recite a poem like this and snuggle against a belly close at hand.

Ida Dzik:

was born in September. She writes and sings, and studies at the faculty of “Artes Liberales” at the University of Warsaw. She gets involved against industrial farming, inequalities and climate change. She believes in political art. She lives in the Bielany district of Warsaw.

Translation: Karen Kovacik

Publish date: 01.07.2020

Also read:

Ida Dzik:

was born in September. She writes and sings, and studies at the faculty of “Artes Liberales” at the University of Warsaw. She gets involved against industrial farming, inequalities and climate change. She believes in political art. She lives in the Bielany district of Warsaw.

to dust you won’t return
not quite
to keep watch we’ll post a guard
of armored roses, fortified tombs
to send you off a submarine
to send you off a diving suit

sister fly, brother beetle
mother clay, father rain
we return to you your child
with this plastic wreath

Author’s commentary:

Also read:

funeral

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