Letter: A poem about Rachel Carson

Biologist, grateful for what she had,

but DDT was making her mad.

being sprayed through the towns,

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the DDT truck making its rounds.

Bugs dying and raptor eggs becoming soft and breaking,

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all the lives it was taking.

Out came Silent Spring,

but the people said it meant nothing.

In her 50s she began to feel sick so she went to the doctor,

“Stop” they said, “get used to using a walker,”

then they wanted her husband,

but she had none,

so they refused to tell her what was wrong.

But she had a new thing in mind,

this book was going to be long.

She tried to convince others to write it,

but they all said it was too strong of a topic,

so Rachel wrote it by herself.

A small time later once more she did not feel well,

and Rachel had bumps on her neck,

and she was just hanging on by a thread,

but yes though Rachel did not feel well,

she had to make it,

she needed her book to sell.

Into the doctor’s office she went,

where she was told she only had a short time to live,

three months, they said.

Just because she had no husband they did not tell her what was wrong,

and now she would die due to them waiting too long.

Rachel worked hard to make the world better up until her dying day,

and Rachel said what she had to say.

Biologist, grateful for what she had,

but DDT was making her mad,

being sprayed through the towns,

the DDT truck making its rounds,

bugs dying and raptor eggs becoming soft and breaking,

all the lives it was taking.

But Rachel turned the world around and made it a better place,

all because one woman fought for her case.

Gwen M. Middleton

Edwards