Environmental Tale

The Donora Smog

The sign groaned in the passing wind
not unlike the creak of a playground swing.
but the playground had fallen quiet

Ultra violet rays pierced thru the clouds onto the lonely jungle
gym
as it waited, yearning for the grip of a small sweaty
hand&;#8230;
It would have to settle for the smooch of sun on metal.

No longer bustling with the banter of youth
with their tender, pure minds--the valley was silent and one could
see
Clearly

there was no problem anymore
but there weren't many people left to reap
the newly sown clean&;#8230;

It used to be a job for every home,
paycheck for every family--
a meal for every plate

Not just the birthplace of Stan Musial,
but the incarnation of Superman
the ideology of the invincible&;#8230;

We're talking Steel Town baby,
breeding ground of the resilient
the burly-the blue collared pillars of brawn

This was the home of tough--origin of the man of steel.
Solid, strapping, sturdy like the metal that fueled
its' economy and its' ultimate demise.

This town knew steel, lived steel and
one weekend in late October 1948
they would even breathe it.

Twenty dead and now the heads would turn.
Twenty-seven more years and pens would scrawl,
law would be laid.

Smog had a name, it had an impact.
It had a classification-a cause and effect.
More important, it had a face.

The countenances of the seventy and eighty year old survivors
could tell you the story, but they might be hard to find-
none of the victims or their families live there anymore.

Now, there's a Texaco and a Family Dollar Store,
a whole hell of a lot of empty store fronts
and a shitload of smelted dreams.

Underneath the feet of those who stayed
lay the trampled memories of children's laughter
sprinkled with the footprints of happier times.

Halloween will never be the same-
it will always be tinged with the remembrance
of that ghastly weekend years ago.

Real ghosts will return to haunt the deserted streets--
spirits of the departed will join the miniature goblins and
witches
parading around this sad, shrunken city that once wore a clown
costume.

Some say it was the catalyst for much needed reform,
others see it as a sobering indicator of post-war negligence
and disrespect for our natural resources.

There are others to whom this is simply another page in the history
books
or a vivid example to validate strict environmental standards
but those reasons are on paper, in theory.

Reach beyond the theoretical and cut into the meat of the story--
rip thru the pages of flesh,
they will narrate a very human tale.

You will see that "The Donora Smog" was more than a closing of a
plant,
some lost jobs and tears stained with soot&;#8230;
To many-it was the Kryptonite that killed the man of steel.

*Inspired by the tragic deaths in Donora, PA on October 29,
1948.
This poem is dedicated to their memory.