Under the 2020 Sky

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The opaque sky heavy-burdened with dark sorrow,
winced as metal birds carelessly sliced through its thick grey billows.
It gently smothered down the city-grid lines of commuter rats,
In a never-ending race after a leader,
Alone, but jam-packed on a relentless wheel
Consuming and eroding;
Chasing constructed goals to ensure a life of future nothingness

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But they didn’t feel the need to look up at it
They were oblivious to its cumulative weight:
Distracted by the spin

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And under this sad ageing sky
A novel crisis was unfolding.
It was all of the rats’ doing, ignored whilst they greedily feasted.

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Tiny green spiky spheres surreptitiously cast into the air,
Blowing around in little particles of perniciousness,
Sneaking in through their noses and mouths
And making an invisible snug hiding place in their lungs:
To attach, to attack, growing poison: to be exhaled.

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And it made the rats suddenly slow down.
One by one: some stopped.
Then the wheel wobbled and lurched,
almost losing momentum altogether

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And the sky suddenly became emptier and younger
Breathing, moving fast again,
Breezing light bright brilliant blue,
Dazzling its white crystals from its darkness 
And it looked like real dappled green life had been
And it had real life buzzing about all over it
And it chirped and hooted like real life and burst the mornings with sunshine
And bathed the evening wanderers in russet-pink embers.
The sky put on its most glorious show ever known
It flower-blossomed the trees, warmed and sparkled the waves
Lured the lonely rats out onto the tops of hills
Brought them out in pairs to the beaches and meadows
Showed them what gold at the end of the rainbow might be

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The rats who still could
Gratefully gulped every breath they were given of clean sky air
Crying it In and out, over and over

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They looked up at the sky in guilty awe and looked down at themselves
They saw their insignificant, unconnected solitude

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The sky’s almighty beauty made them see.
It suddenly made them want to look at every individual thing that existed under her,
To become themselves a part; to be connected

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The sky’s sweet songs made them joyful
It suddenly made them want to listen to every individual voice that existed under her
To be able to blend their voice with all of hers; to listen and to be heard 

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And the sky itself seemed to hold their new-found dream distanced-aloft

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It toyed, drip-feeding occasional sun-shimmers through the ashes
Little sugar syringe rewards of togetherness
Respite between the dark clouds, at random-by-little, by-little,
But they were again and again locked in and unlocked, without warning,
Pushed inside with ice and storms and darkness.
The sky rapidly blew the winds of change,
Unpredictability characterised all control,
Altering in concentration, frequency, form.

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But bright reminder rainbows blazened-strong, through it all,
Bold banners of hope and trust in the future
They would, one day, be free to roam together, re-wilded, re-connected
That they would show up, look up, down, in and around
And would uphold the promise they made, this year, to the sky
that they would ,forever, look after it all

Alison McIntosh January 2021