Authenticity -- by Emily
Authenticity is
Found in the ironic laugh
Dripping from Al Gore’s patented shoes
Leaking from the diesel tank of David Suzuki’s bus,
Oozing from Edward Burtynsky’s photograph equipment as he snaps shot after shot of our manufactured landscape.
Authenticity is
Found in the salty tear
Dripping from a Chinese worker’s eye as she sews together Al Gore’s shoes
Leaking from the pores of Bangladesh laborers, shipping off diesel for Suzuki’s bus
Oozing from a hungry African girl, crouched in a diamond field, watching Burtynsky eat a sandwich and photograph her landscape.
Authenticity is the silence that falls on a casket after the final eulogy has been spoken.
It’s a child’s gasp of horror, wonder or surprise as the world unfolds its mysteries, one gasp after another.
It’s the two coins donated by a woman on welfare, versus the piles of bills offered by the rich.
It’s the quiet heartbeat of humanity being dulled by
layer upon layer of fast food and greed.
It’s the groan of creation watching itself be stripped bare, unable to be heard.
Authenticity is a word whose definition we no longer understand.
Found in the ironic laugh
Dripping from Al Gore’s patented shoes
Leaking from the diesel tank of David Suzuki’s bus,
Oozing from Edward Burtynsky’s photograph equipment as he snaps shot after shot of our manufactured landscape.
Authenticity is
Found in the salty tear
Dripping from a Chinese worker’s eye as she sews together Al Gore’s shoes
Leaking from the pores of Bangladesh laborers, shipping off diesel for Suzuki’s bus
Oozing from a hungry African girl, crouched in a diamond field, watching Burtynsky eat a sandwich and photograph her landscape.
Authenticity is the silence that falls on a casket after the final eulogy has been spoken.
It’s a child’s gasp of horror, wonder or surprise as the world unfolds its mysteries, one gasp after another.
It’s the two coins donated by a woman on welfare, versus the piles of bills offered by the rich.
It’s the quiet heartbeat of humanity being dulled by
layer upon layer of fast food and greed.
It’s the groan of creation watching itself be stripped bare, unable to be heard.
Authenticity is a word whose definition we no longer understand.
posted by kanadians in korea at 9:07 PM
4 Comments:
Beautiful Em.
I have the same name as you. I always wondered who it was that popped up when I googled myself.
Love these verses Em -- you are inspiring!
It's a solem reminder to practice what we preach, even if no one is looking at us.
love you, a.
Wow, amazing post. Love it!
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