new year in poetry

I look up in the night sky
& I hope that it’s not empty,
that someone or something’s
gonna save us from ourselves.
But no.
It’s on us.
If we want this human thing to keep on going
It’s on us now.
Now more Santas or Leprechauns
or Jehovahs or Allahs or Yahwehs
or angels or aliens
or any other bullshit made-up
no responsibility escape plans.
Not anymore.
Get busy not pretending
or busy dying.
It’s on us.

Hoping for it’s fine, I guess
as far as that goes
but counting on exterior
imaginary confections
to pull us out the shit.
Nah.
We used that up.
We’ve brought the sky down upon ourselves
waiting for God to fix everything
while the people who claim to speak for divinity
ruin the Earth and the sea and the skies
knowing us pacified
by unprovable promises.

I look up to a probably empty sky
and think upon
a possibly empty future
but I know
that second part is in our hands.
It’s on us.