Pulse
We seem transfixed these days
by laser pulses bouncing by the billions
off buried Mayan cities and Egyptian
sarcophagi, images revealing footprints
of ancient glaciers and lava flows.
Yet an engineering report of visible
cracks and leaks in this doomed seaside condo
did not penetrate our 21st century hubris.
Said the mayor regarding the collapse:
This is a First World country. That doesn’t happen here.
Now, humbled humans advance
inch by inch through the smoke and debris,
stopping every few minutes
to listen — for cries in the rubble,
for a single pulse, a beating heart.
8 thoughts on "Pulse"
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The juxtaposition here of past to present is devastatingly effective … in more ways than one … the last line made me take a deep breath
Kevin
You have captured what is unfathomable.
It see.s like a metaphor for all our wrongs
We walk on quicksand and give our solid ground to history.
How is that and why? Terrific poetic reminder for us all.
like the title
This poem tackles much. How does the human heart advance? I think you killed the god of science and technology here.
love how the first stanza sets up for the rest of the poem
Well crafted Linda! Great content for us, too!