Field Notes #7: People Singing

You are reading the weekly poetry newsletter, "Entangled Worlds: A Field Guide to Hope in a World Unraveling." Read more about it here.

Fellow waylarks! Come here by the fireplace. Tuck the curtains tight around the chill. The bare tree limbs rattle, and the sky veils with grey. The noise outside feels duller, muddled, too-loud in this time of dreaming.

Now is the time we cradle the ember. Everywhere people are keeping it lit. They march in the tens of thousands for their kidnapped neighbors. They fight in the courts to block toxic and extractive industries. They boycott corporate greed again and again.

So come close. Hold each other tight. Let each of us take a brief turn shielding the flame from the bitter cold. And take this ballad with you to sing in the deepening dark.

The Ballad of Lake Louisa

They say that all the evil spirits
were placed in Lake Louisa
down down down
deep in the flooded caves
where they could not come out again

Unless

Unless Lake Louisa was ever drained
then they would all be released
to the world
to wreak their havoc.

There are those who came
who did not believe in stories
and they tried to drain Lake Louisa
to line their silken pockets.

Even as the water barely receded
there rose a great cry
from all the people who believed in stories
and they wreaked such havoc
on the greedy.

Oh such good trouble they made,
I tell you.

And in the deep deep deep caves
beneath the draining lake
their voices echoed
and rebounded
a thousand fold
so that there rose a mighty roar
from the depths of the land
that called to others
to come
come believe in stories
come believe in the ballad of lake Louisa
and realize it is ours as well
should we choose to
sing it.

For folks who have been following my writing for at least year now, you know that I’ve been helping to fight millionaire investors that are trying to take over my mom’s small village with a water bottling plant. Well, nearly a year to the day after giving my very first public comment ever at my county’s Planning Commission, my mom and her fellow villagers finally got their day in court. Let’s just say it was a very good day for us. The judge’s written opinion is still forthcoming, but she ruled from the bench that the company’s development plan broke local ordinances and regulations and was rightly denied by our planning commission.

This came after a year of community organizing with thousands of written public comments sent to our Planning Commission, hundreds of public comments spoken at meetings, hundreds of pages of expert testimony entered into the public record - all of which resulted in 4000 pages of court record at the Circuit Court hearing, every single piece of which was read by the judge. If even one person had stayed home, if one person hadn’t told their neighbor, if one person hadn’t written a letter, we wouldn’t be where we are today: a historic village intact, a wetland preserved, drinking water safe. We build the world we want - together, bit by bit, one small action at a time.

Part of becoming entangled with more than human nature, is not just entwining ourselves with the lifeways of owls and wildflowers and butterflies - it’s fighting for them too. I urge you to find something to fight for in your community: a poisoned stream, a threatened wetland (like Lake Louisa). Even a nearby field mowed on a different schedule can save countless butterflies and fireflies. Each small action we take can build the world we want to live in, filled with the rebounding roar of the people entwined with the land.

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