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Literature, PoetryOctober 1, 2017

Gaia

I reached into my pockets yesterday
And pulled out two bodies, dripping
Soaking from the carnage I created
They reminded me of abandoned cigarettes
You know, the ones that get washed down storm drains
No one cares about ‘em, insignificance at it’s finest.

I am Gaia
Mother of lands and all encompassing,
Terra, Haumea, Prithvi, I am earth
Humans take refuge within my fertile spaces and yet
I haven’t received respect since the Mycenaean’s age.
Instead I have been rejected, bruised, poisoned
By those who roam my waist line with leisure.
This activity is no longer tolerable.

I took the liberty of teaching mankind a lesson
Breaking my peace treaties with Haiti, Indonesia, Iceland,
and finally Japan
I commenced on breaking every bolt
And double-knot in their foundations,
I disemboweled crevices, releasing manifold demons
To arise from the cracks
Oceanus, I beg of you,
Help me bring about this armaggedon sneak peak,
for this is only the beginning.

Silly creatures
Nothing better to do than create havoc upon my skin
Having to heal new sores everyday is a nuisance and I am tired,
Of all the wreckage these mortals have created, Japan,
Will be swift and unexpected, an education in morals.
No one will ever see it coming.

I will make sure that every household
Is a disheveled bird’s nest, that every family
Is either enduring search party anticipation
Or floating lifeless in each other’s arms,
I will make sure that every road and grass patch
Is covered in black mass and building debris
This is but a blueprint that I have made for you, Tsunami
My favorite daughter, you have been nothing but successful in your past endeavors
I ask you to aid me.

I have more in store for Fukushima and its inhabitants.
You are water and this is acceptable
But your brother Fire plays a key role in the plans
There will be explosions…
Not
Just menial balloon pin pops
But actual hysteria dressed in orange
I will release giants hidden in gas tanks
I am letting you know this so you don’t hurry to extinguish him
He is our ally, darling. Devastate with him.

Cooperate
With the other elements and CRUSH
All who try to interfere with it
I don’t care what contraptions are set against you
You are nature! And nature does not fail
Make your mother proud and bring forth mountains
Of damage for people who neglected to pay attention to the earth’s changes.

Daughter,
Such trials can be daunting for one so young, but
This is a travail that none of your siblings could solely handle
Child of Gaia, you hold the fate of lives in your brackish hands
Seal them with warnings, tell them of what awaits for those who don’t listen
Follow the examples I have set up for you
Become more than a wave or a grain of sand for others to step on
You are a legend in the making, history books will read of the turmoil
You have placed on this nation
Do not give up.

And when the last corpse is seen floating
And the last hopeful prayer is said…
I will select a star for you in the night sky, all your own
To have for all eternity and I will make sure that all humans
See it shine brighter than any constellation.
You will become a reminder of Gaia’s wrath
and a forecast
of what is to come

~ Serena Ngaio Simmons

Serena Ngaio Simmons (Ngati Porou) is a writer, performer, and activist with a degree in English from the University of Hawai‘i at Manoa. A member of the non-profit Pacific Tongues, Serena has grown from a youth poet into a poetry facilitator role over her six year involvement, teaching writing workshops across both Hawai‘i and New Zealand. A featured performer at TedX Honolulu 2013, Serena was awarded the Ernest Hemingway Award for Undergraduate Poetry in Spring 2014 and was featured in LitHub’s 2016 article “Six Pacific Islander Poets You Should Know.” Digging into such themes as diaspora, identity conflict, mana wahine, and home in her writing, her work has been featured in the Oceanic zine Manavahine, Hawaii Review, Blackmail Press, and Ora Nui. She is currently pursuing a Masters in Indigenous Politics at UHM.

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Pacific Climate Change PoetrypoetrySerena Ngaio Simmons

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One last love letter...

April 24, 2021

It has taken us some time and patience to come to this decision. TMS would not have seen the success that it did without our readers and the tireless team that ran the magazine for the better part of eight years.

But… all good things must come to an end, especially when we look at the ever-expanding art and literary landscape in Pakistan, the country of the magazine’s birth.

We are amazed and proud of what the next generation of creators are working with, the themes they are featuring, and their inclusivity in the diversity of voices they are publishing. When TMS began, this was the world we envisioned…

Though the magazine has closed and our submissions shuttered, this website will remain open for the foreseeable future as an archive of the great work we published and the astounding collection of diverse voices we were privileged to feature.

If, however, someone is interested in picking up the baton, please email Maryam Piracha, the editor, at maryamp@themissingslate.com.

Farewell, fam! It’s been quite a ride.

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