Why It's Hard to Imagine a Net Zero City in Small Town U.S.A.

I am having so much fun writing these poems so far this month, so much so I decided to share a bonus poem today. It’s a teensy bit inspired by the weekend’s events, but mostly in response again to

Paul Hawken

’s Regeneration. This chapter is about Net Zero Cities.

In it, Hawken writes:

“In the United States, more than 150 cities, representing nearly 100 million people, have formalized commitments to achieve 100 percent renewable energy goals in the electricity, heating and cooling, or transportation sectors.”

- Paul Hawken, “Net Zero Cities,” Regeneration

Why It’s Hard to Imagine a Net Zero City in Small Town U.S.A.

In the land of rapture and Young Earthers, 
everything was given for the express purpose 
of burning. Soul patch ball caps rev their duallies 

through the square, burping the guts of dinosaurs 
that God planted into the crust of the planet, just 
for us, his crowning achievement. Let’s face it, 

friends, no one I know who owns a Harley wants 
to ride the Tail of the Dragon with an electric 
motorcycle, no apocalyptic warrior will ever 

go to the gun show in a Prius. The end times
should be loud, full of fire and brimstone,
not delayed, powered by some quiet whirr.

Our fair will never feature a demolition derby 
humming with the silent buzz of Teslas—
though that would be a joyful spectacle—

or a tractor pull calmly hauling tons of brick 
across packed dirt. Who would even need 
a loudspeaker to announce “Full Pull”? 

Somewhere north and south and west of here, 
men race every form of automobile all summer. 
I can hear them from my deck above the caw 

of crows and call of robins, the cry of hawks,
the beat of woodpeckers, the scurry of squirrels. 
I strain to hear creation talking above this ruckus.

But who can blame them? When it feels like 
the world has stopped listening, you tend to shout
until your vocal cords are raw, trying to be heard.

Photo by Chris Kofoed on Unsplash

Hands Off

My daughter and I attended a Hands Off protest on Saturday, and aside from being on the receiving end of a variety of different hand gestures, it was an inspiring afternoon, one that made me feel both proud and sad.

Then I spent some time eating and singing along with my husband’s band in my hometown with family members I love, who believe differently than me about the direction of our country.

I have to confess that I feel conflicted about engaging in any political anythings, because there are so many things that rank higher on my list of things I love than voicing my opinions about what feels ultimately out of my control. I love my God and my neighbor and myself far above my love for country, and doing what I can on a local level to love my neighbor (family, friend, or foe) matters far more to me than fighting about who’s national and international policies are right or wrong.

Plus, there are so many others in the world who have bigger megaphones and are far better informed (

Heather Cox Richardson

,

Kristin Du Mez

, and

Jemar Tisby, PhD

, to name a few).

But I am daily horrified about what’s happening, as many institutions and issues that matter to me are being destroyed and as a growing number of people I care about are threatened or hurt by such policies. Standing with others who feel similarly seemed like the right thing to do.

When I watch the trucks roar by with their middle fingers and Trump flags up, I try to keep in mind this word:

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” - Ephesians 6:12 NIV

Another thing I can do is keep writing and trying to make beautiful things.