Daniel Lu, Class of 2019
Where those who were violent towards Mother Earth suffer (The real violence toward Nature)
Crossing the river, we arrive at the edge of a mountain
of trash. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in haste
at the wretched stench that left a taste in my mouth—
a rancid flavor, like year-old milk gone to waste.
Flocks of Striges screech above and dive down
to peck and scratch at any soul who wanders away
from its eternal punishment. An abundance of sounds:
gurgling, choking, and crying filled with dismal agony
echo through the mountains, valleys, and canyons.
“Ok, grab shell, dude, we’re riding,” Crush says to me.
I grab onto the safety of his solid, leathery shell,
and we zoom down the mountain at lightning speed.
My face is plastered with so many bugs I can’t tell:
swarms of gnats, flies, and bugs of all sorts.
At the base of the mountain, I look at Crush and yell:
“O wise one who has traveled all over the world,
what have these poor souls done to deserve
this ghastly punishment?” And he to me: “I support
you, mini man, but are you sure you have the nerve
to meet and listen to the wretched sinners,
whose testimonies no living soul has ever heard?”
I respond, “To the fullest extent, let them deliver
their story to my ear, so that I may recognize
them. Don’t hide anything from me.
Steer me to the nearest place where sinners reside.”
Crush waited a moment, then said to me:
“As soon as they emerge, don’t waste any time.
They must suffer their torture, regardless of their pleas.
If you so wish, follow me. Don’t say I did not warn
you.” We traveled down the path further to the East
before my face became marked by the absence of color—
a deathly pale as if I had watched my beautiful
Chipotle burrito, stuffed full with carnitas, lettuce, corn,
sour cream, rice, beans, cheese, corn, tomatoes,
and guac, fall and explode all over my garage floor
after I had finally arrived home—at the sight
of girls wearing tattered clothes as they’d just come from war:
ripped Uggs with toes sticking out, Lululemon pants
barely holding on by threads and shirts that tore
ages ago. Their mouths are full of plastic bags,
cigarette butts, and water bottles while their necks
are constantly blue from the incessant lack
of air due to 6 pack rings wrapping tightly without relent.
Straws stuck out of their noses and fishing wire bound
their arms like sausages—an everlasting torment.
The girl at the front addresses me: “Who are you
with a face so pale? Although I’m in agony here,
I deserve this punishment. What brings you to
come here before your time?” I reply to her:
“Although I’m here, I do not come to remain,”
then added, “What did you do to have to suffer
so brutally?” She: “You see me—I am one
who used plastic straws without considering its effects,
destroying the environment when drinking pumpkin
spice lattes. It was my trash which was swept
into the oceans, forming garbage patches,
polluting Mother Earth, and making a mess
all along the once pristine coastlines.”
She continues: “When I was younger,
my teachers and friends told me so many times:
‘Recycle your bottles. Reuse plastic bags. Don’t litter.’
Yet I paid no heed. Now I have to spend
eternity not only without Frappuccinos and lattes,
but suffocating from six-pack rings, for days on end.
We are not allowed to get used to the lack of air,
and trash is shoved down our throats with no relent.
If only I could go back and tell myself to adhere
to the advice and guidance from others,
I would have kept Mother Nature clear
from trash.” As she heaved these words, her
eyes wandered to a distant silhouette.
My eyes widened as soon as I discerned
the sinner. I asked with a frightened quiver
in my voice, afraid to let her explain:
“Why is Trump here with you together?”
She allowed this reply: “It’s quite plain.
He too did not care for the environment,
leaving her for the future generations to save.”
I abruptly turned to my guide: “I have had enough,
Take me out of this place. I cannot bear
it anymore. I thought that I was tough,
but everything—the sights, scents, and air...
It’s just… just too much for me.”
He kindly replied: “Let us depart so that fear
won’t overwhelm you, lest I have to carry
you once again.” As we began to leave
and traverse to the next circle of misery,
Crush placed his fin on my back and said to me
“You so totally rock dude, give me some fin,
noggin, duuuude.” I looked at him with glee,
and turned around to discover the next sin.
