Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write about wondering what “future archaeologists, whether human or from an alien civilization, will make of us . . . exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist.” Thanks to Michael of last week’s Tale Weavers from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie who provided a prompt about the moon. As well for A to Z Challenge for a GoodRead’s quote the letter today is the letter W.
” . . . All that is now / [a]ll that is gone/ [a]ll that’s to come / and everything under the sun is in tune/ but the sun is eclipsed by the moon.
“There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact it’s all dark.” — Roger Waters
Gazing into the future, ‘neath a pale moon gleaming bright,
Hard to believe, people who were, saw the same moon’s shining light.
They had houses, electricity.
So many ethnicities.
It’s different now, the gene pool changed,
Those who look unique all estranged.
All look like us, all brown eyes, dark hair, and medium skin too.
I can scarce picture blond, red-haired, green eyes, or eyes so blue.
Genetic defects they called them, so now we’re all plain, the same,
It’s weird to think, they dyed their hair, all colors, none went gray.
How was it to be individual,
Not for the whole good — sacrificial.
What makes a person now is,
Incredibly different knowing this —
Society of people who fell as those before left their cities,
Frames of what once was, rusted metal, not all that pretty.
Their language full of slang, we cannot pin down lingiustics,
Cannot find words, spoken globally, their lyrics I sing.
But their music is strange, listened —
To some and our technology it fits.
Technology they had weird, but we —
Discover strange things, sound gleaned.
Words not understandable but melodies clear and bright,
Music is forbidden, I sing in secrecy to ancient tunes light.
Some days we watch their stories, their films, when the moon is round.
My favorite days, those brilliant plays, words with lovely sound.
And we find little toys, scrapbooks, phones,
While in the distance the guns drone.
Each man, each woman a soldier,
Controlled by who knows? With no souls.
No hope as those gone far ago had, of a war ending soon,
Gazing into the future, we lived under the same moon.
And now, for our prompt (optional as always!) Just as Rosa Jamila’s poems often sound like they come out of a myth or fairy tale (and not always one with a happy ending), today I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back. Happy writing!