Poem: "Iconoclysm"
This poem came out of the February 7, 2012 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from siliconshaman. It has been sponsored by minor_architect. (You might also like my article "Totems, History, and Evolutionary Complexity" which includes a mention of Mammoth.)
Iconoclysm
They move in us,
the spirits of extinct species,
the totems-that-were
before our time.
Tyrannosaurus rex
screams defiance at the ruthless stars,
refusing to lie down and die,
crushing disbelief beneath a shower of stones.
Woolly mammoth
bugles after the retreating ice,
reminding us that the world has changed before,
will change again,
forever fluid beneath our feet.
Passenger pigeon
spits messages in our faces
whether we pay attention or not.
Thylacine smiles a Cheshire smile
and disappears into the Outback,
leaving no clear note of departure,
only a secret gift for those who would be hidden.
They are icons of the cataclysm,
examples of what can happen
even to powerful species --
we too are mortal.
They move through us,
pulling against swift current of time,
uncaring of the risks or the costs,
demanding that we serve them with our attention
that they may live again in our books and movies
and perhaps, someday, our labs.