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A dear friend and poet met me for lunch yesterday, with a few items for the journey: a corkscrew, a hand-painted wind cheater and a beautiful poem. Perhaps it was the way she read it out loud, but it moved me to tears.


It’s a jet plane, a cruise ship, a luxury train,

no it’s a bus birthed in 1991,

well not a bus but a van,

a dining hall, a sleeping cell travelling

from mile zero to mile zero, a Canadian

juggernaut, a moving document

to save the documentary, a road trip

to tell us how to hold onto reality,

plastic filling the seas, corporate stealth

to own water everyone/no one owns,

earth shifting warm, too warm, the ravages

of oil thickening, spilling our of broken

pipelines, freighters and greed.


And old bus, a small blond traveling

from coast to coast to turn our thinking

wheels towards what we can do;

do what she is doing, daring

the impossible, believing we can

redesign our own journey, our destiny,

simple things: walk or ride a bike,

drink water from the tap, plant fruit trees,

grow vegetables on boulevards,

hear, protect the birdsong, breathe in and out

in unison with the breathing of evergreens.


And old bus, a small blonde, get on,

save documentaries, unravel the mystery,

save our small twirling blue/green ball,

save ourselves, save each other,

save our communities.


~ Dvora Levin

poet Dvora Levin

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