On Broken Glass

Last night I walked down to the river for various reasons, none of which are pertinent to this account. Anyway, I love it down by the river. There are so many spots that are simply beautiful, and I have fantastic memories at each of them. There is one that features two stone/cement benches facing the river, and they are fantastic for either sitting and writing or for conversing long into the night. This is where I went last night.

By the River

The water flows so fast today
Gliding by
I came to one of my favourite spots
To listen to the river sing
Broken
Glass shard strewn about
On withered steps
Of mortar and stone
So much glass
Blue
Green
Clear
Everywhere
Amidst the straws and plastic bags
Why?
Styrofoam ground into the earth
A thousand tiny
Cigarette butts
Decay among the leaves
Over there's an empty pack
Over there's another
This makes me sick
Gatorade and mountain dew
Washed up bottles by the shore
And so much alcohol
Expensive or cheap
It was here
The not quite empty cans testify
And all the coloured glass
The refuse mosaic
Beside my stone bench
And over there
Beside those long dead branches
A sleeping bag lies cast aside
I shudder
It all has been defiled
Broken
I came here for peace
But here I now must morn.

I know this is not a particularly good poem, but the occurance was important to me, and I had to write it. I also feel I must clarify that this is not at all a poem about being against littering or going green. Those are very important, but they have nothing at all to do with my poem. It is more about the disregard for and degradation of beauty, of something I held slightly sacred in a way. It turns my stomach to think of what might have happened in that place of peace and reflection. I cannot expect people to know that I hold that place in such regard, but they can at least respect beauty.