I just returned from a trip to Minnesota, where I had been asked by the non-profit Climate Generation to perform for their 10 year anniversary benefit dinner. Initially, I was meant to just speak. But I decided, kind of as a creative challenge, to volunteer to write them a new poem that would connect the issues of climate change in the Marshalls with Minnesota. After talking with their amazing founder, Will Steiger, I realized that our shared passion for working with youth – our belief in them as the most sustainable investment – was one of many ways in which we were connected. So this is the latest poem I’ve been able to write “Utilomar.” You can watch the video of me reciting the piece, as well as read the poem in full, below.
Utilomar
I dreamt of a dead shark
we were at a family party
my mother asked me to check the oven and
when I opened it
there it was
massive, gray leathered skin, jaw open
like a metal trap
I dreamt of eating a shark
When I woke up I met my mother in the hallway
I told her about my dream
how it felt
foreboding
together we went outside and that’s when we found
the world
flooded
Water
everywhere
Our neighbors wandering outside
morning daze on their faces
homes inundated, families evacuated
sent to sleep on classroom floors at the nearby elementary school
My family is a descendant of the RiPako clan, the Shark clan
known to control the waves with roro, chants
it was said that they turned the tides with the sound of their voice
they sang songs to sharks encircling their canoes, we were connected
to these white tipped slick bodied ancestors carving
through water
we would never
have eaten them
In the Marshall Islands I teach Pacific Literature
Together we read the stories our ancestors told around coconut husk fire
So what are the legends
we tell ourselves today?
What songs are we throwing into the fire . . . what
are we burning?
And will future generations
recite these stories by heart, hand
over chest?
Maybe
In one legend
It’ll start by saying
in the beginning
was water
water from the sea that flooded our homes our land and now
our only underground reservoir
what we call a fresh water lens
shaped like the front of an eyeball, nestled deep in our coral
feeding on rainwater it watches us, burning and angry it is
vindictive
it poisons us
with salt
leaving us dry
and thirsty
Over 6,000 miles away from my island home is the US state of Minnesota
I’ve read that Minnesota, like the Marshalls,
is simultaneously drowning and thirsting
In 2007 24 Minnesota counties received drought designation
While 7 counties were declared flood disasters
In 2012 this time 55 Minnesota counties received drought designation
while 11 counties declared flood emergencies
Climate scientists warn of intensified heat
this heat threatens Minnesota’s great North Woods
a forest nearly 12,000 years old
scientists predict the mixed hardwood and conifer forest
will follow glaciers and retreat north by as much as 300 miles in the next century
I imagine a hardwood tree ancient
and weary, dry
untangling its roots from the soil
before heaving its tree trunk body
to a new home where it will forever mourn
its roots
In this legend,
identify the theme, the moral the message what
have we learned . . .
have we learned
anything?
What is the archetype of a monster and a hero?
can they be one and the same?
Here’s another story of a tree
On one of our atolls known as Kwajelein
There was said to be a flowering tree at the south end
that grew from the reef itself
a utilomar tree
it was said its magical white petals fell
into the water and bloomed
into flying fish
On a lazy Sunday my cousin and I lay side by side
on my aunty’s veranda, sun drying our skin, together
we dreamed an organization dedicated to young people like us
who leapt
blind and joyful
into water
willing ourselves wings
to fly
who dared to dream of a world where both forests and islands
stay rooted
who believe that this world
is worth fighting for
I still nightmare of dead leather sharks
But I’d rather dream
I’d rather imagine our/next generation
their voices turning the tides
how our underground reservoir will drink in their chants
how they will speak shark songs and fluent fish
how they
will leap
petal-soft
beautiful
unafraid
into the water
before blossoming
to fly
Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner 