Energy in the city
It’s weird. I live in a city, and have for a few years now. I don’t necessarily dislike it. It’s convenient, it makes work just a walk away, I get to live with my girlfriend, and I certainly don’t regret moving here! But the energy here is very impure. It feels exhausted and hopeless. The land feels… Hurt? As if the city were a blemish upon its otherwise beautiful face. The rain feels wasted and the sun feels restrained.
The Land is hurting, the wounds marred on the land are only close to healing, bound by girdles of concrete and steel. The small rivers, though alive and healthier than their neighbors abroad, are meek and fragile, cut off from their mother Petitcodiac. Many moons ago, she was a wonder of the world, a force of nature to behold, the Tidal Bohr. The river used to be a watery rift separating Moncton and Riverview, look across the acres of Sedge and understand, this river is but a wounded mirror of its former self, its roar reduced to a gasp, choked with mud and silt under the grip of paved walls, made in the name of “progress” decades ago without foresight. The gates have been opened, and she will roar again some day, but for now she gasps, reaching for her children.
The ocean longs to breathe there once again.
