My Climate Story
Groningen, Netherlands
2024, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
I have been tasked to tell my climate story, my story is not tragic, but stories should always be
told.
I have never lost a loved one in the growing tides or the crashing floods that are ripping
people apart.
I have never experienced that burning sensation in one’s throat and that sick dryness in my
mouth when water is lacking.
I have never been trapped behind walls of roaring fire in my own country, slowly burning to a
pile of ash and memories.
I have never felt air being forcefully ripped from my lungs as cold water presses onto me,
slowly killing me through the panic ravaging through my body.
I have never had to flee my country.
My home.
I have felt smaller things.
Smaller painful things.
Things that haunt me.
Things that I desperately attempt to shrug off, trying to be rid of this creature clamped to my
soul.
But its claws dig into my skin, perched firmly.
Like a heavy shadow constantly draped over my consciousness.
Every little thought.
Like when it snows, that little voice interrupts my elation.
It won’t last.
It’s all dying.
That’s what it always says, as if it were a broken disc.
Going on, and on, and on.
Like when my chest clamps at each photo I see.
When the Po River dried up.
When it stopped snowing in London.
When the lake stopped freezing during the misty winters.
And that heart clenching feeling has a friend. Both of whom weigh down on my back
throughout my day.
Keeping me up at night.
The guilt.
Each time I use a plastic product I get that familiar sinking feeling in my stomach.
To me it’s just a stone in my gut. Dragging me down.
Though I’m drowning in my own guilt, how many fish are reaching the sky, stomachs up.
Motionless.
Full lives discarded because I chose to buy a biscuit enveloped in that lethal material.
To me, it’s just a feeling.
Similar to dread, though perhaps I am dreading future events.
Because each time I get into the car that little creature protests, squirming about.
You’re helping the world crumble.
You’re part of the problem.
It’s your fault.
The creature is right of course.
It’s as if the earth is sending its guardians.
Sent in an attempt to preserve itself.
Does everyone have these creatures perched on their backs?
Am I the only one writhing in torment?
Sobs wracking my body in a darkened room.
Do I act like I do only because of the dark guardians on my back?
Does everyone feel like throwing up as they stare at their ceilings whilst they try to sleep?
Why were they sent to me?
Is it just me?
Am I alone?
I’m sorry, Mother Nature.
I’m sorry, Earth.
I really am.
I’m trying.
I promise.
Reflection
Reflection
The worlds that I create and write about inside my mind have been my favorite escapes when the world gets harsh, and my mind needs a rabbit hole to jump down. My climate story is supposed to be a small window into my soul. Just words that flow out of my mind. I try to show people how alone it can feel to see every drastic change happening on the earth and have no one talk about it. My goal is to help people feel seen with my words and hope they get through to someone and be the wonderful escape they have been to me. Though this piece is rather depressing, it reflects my inner thoughts about the crisis, and I hope that someone can read this and feel a little less alone.