Syrupy: A Prayer for the Gulf Coast
Syrupy. It used to be a favorite fun word.
Syrupy, my fingers glued with liquid maple sugar.
Syrupy, my description for the plate just vacated by the last bite of golden pancake.
Syrupy, my chin and cheeks after eager mouthfuls…
Today I saw the syrupy sea hurl itself onto the Gulf Coast
Her beaches
Her fishing boats
Her marshes
Her people's dreams.
I saw syrupy goo clumped together like brown jellyfish twenty feet below the ocean surface
Fish confused
Plant life choked
A pipeline billowing crude poison.
Have we, in our quest for comfort, created a syrupy mess?
Victim and perpetrator, stuck together in unholy marriage.
God, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
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