climate change in my stew
Cresskill, NJ
2022, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
tabletop wood illuminated by
the kitchen’s fluorescent lights
stomachs abuzz; waves of greasy and tangy scent wafting teasingly
in and out
dinner is ready
all gathering, we plop
into chairs; giddy
today, mom made
doenjang jjigae; Korean soybean paste stew
not the Hmart kind, no.
mom’s—
tofu bits always moist to the
perfect density
cucumbers sliced small so a piece fulfills only
a pinch
of a spoonful.
a soup
a dash less salt
emitting just a little more warmth
Good recipe does not need “extra”
it needs stability, she says.
picking up the spoon
and I dip
into a bowl of rice
—rice?
no,
the silver crater of metal swishes past
nothing… air.
at the other end of the table
a ladle delves for the beans
but
abrupt smoke dissipates
leaving blackened crusts
along its handle
…ashes
one by one
bowl, dish fwoosh-crackle
an ambush conquers the dining table
of mother nature’s fields.
our Mother
her recipe be our home
her children on a rampage
only a teaspoon…
coughing toxins into the bowl
stirring burning gases; swirling in frenzied flame
picked carelessly and
ever so easily
out of the cupboard
no!
hands on the oven
swiveling the knob several degrees
too high
too much
I peer
down at the pot—the stew;
ashes.
Reflection
Reflection
In all honesty, my trigger with this piece was food—I am such a big foodie that expanding my research of crop hazarding by climate change into this poem was irresistible. Although I cannot certify my mom as a home chef, she certainly makes delicious remix dishes from time to time. Her “recipe” of doenjang (jjigae) stew was a classic, and when I learned about nature’s own “balanced recipe,” I sought to piece the two together. A reader’s first thought when reading through my poem is supposedly, “So what does this have to do with climate change?” Starting off with a simple backstory is my hook, and the transition to my message is the punchline. In the end, I wanted people to not only become aware of our carbon footprint but also realize what it means for us personally. Slowly but gradually, the increase of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere is evidently heating up our planet. In my poem, I demonstrate this progressive chaos via the anxious pace each line eventually takes on. The climate crisis has dilated, with stronger rainstorms, longer droughts, and bigger wildfires. Most especially, many crops like wheat, rice, and soybeans have regressed in growth, as the planet comes to produce less and less of these vital resources. Everyday, families place bowls of rice and various types of dishes made possible with these crops onto their dining tables. I want everyone to know that it’s not just everyone else’s problem—it's also theirs.