How can we ever today be brave as Columbus’ men
westward rushing through the ocean on a mysterious, reliable wind
so fast they worried not how they would arrive
but how they would ever return home?
Today in an old world we face into unreliable winds
With return trip tickets, accommodation included, passports, shots,
We worry not about whether we will return home
but about what it will be like when we do.
We look down and see drowning coasts, melting glaciers, black cities,
and wish we were Columbus’ lookout, clinging high above the tiny boat,
looking down and seeing the folding wake, wave on wave,
closing off the past.