from here, on top of the lighthouse tower
I oversee what I thought was the meaning of life:
the importance of neat houses and clean sidewalks,
trees trimmed as not to be too full in leaves because of storms,
the graves with names and loving words forever engraved,
the school and the blond hair of running children, their laughter
and I know the insides of the houses and all that is there,
all the precious books and artifacts, clothes, kittens and puppies
and it all means nothing to the yellow stones of the lighthouse tower
(whose builders died centuries ago), the tower that might
survive the rising sea for a bit longer than the village,
but not really that long
as one day all will be deep under water,
as from up here, the meaning of life does not exist,
as from up here and higher, time is of no matter
and oceans have secrets that we all forgot.
climate change… the lighthouse tower here, by far the highest point on the island, is 52 meters, and when all the ice of Antarctica is melted, the sea level will have risen 70 meters. this island has no chance to survive.
Ina 
Comments on: "From the lighthouse tower" (4)
It is the way of the universe….birth, growth, death, decay, rebirth….Loved the poignancy for the poem….bittersweet…lovely.
Thank you Elaine! (I only realized now that “change” had to be “chance”) 🙂
I really like this. I understand the literal reference but it alway works wonderfully as a metaphor our struggles through life.
Thank you!