The wild is the soul of the earth.
Mother Earth speaks to us
through whale and wolf and tree.
She sings to us in rainfall
on parched earth,
in windsong through the branches
of tall cedar,
in birdsong on
a golden autumn morning.
She speaks to those of us
who are listening.
We weep together
over those who are not.
Visit an old tree.
Place your hands on her trunk
and listen.
She will tell you her story.
Under the ground,
her roots reach out to
all the others.
They hold hands,
quaking in fear
as the grappleyarders come.
We are a voracious species.
We devour our own home.
If you listen to the song of the river,
it will tell you
that the earth is struggling.
In drought, it dries up,
fish flapping limply in stagnant pools,
unable to make their way.
When the voice of the river falls silent,
when the wildfires burn,
when Mother Earth heaves and tosses in storm,
when bears swim for miles
in a warming, polluted sea,
it is long past time
to awaken:
to plant trees,
to clear the streams and clean the ocean,
to legislate reduced emissions and carbon tax,
to turn off fossil fuel and turn on clean energy.
Time to cool the earth
with loving hands.
Time to restore the soul of the earth
to wholeness.
A poem from 2017, when I had more hope than I have today. Yet we must hold onto hope. Let's plant what trees we can.
The vision is full-throated even when conditions are ever more bleak -- How is it that our Mother must stand by as Her forests are clearcut for dwellings shut tight against Her wind? Terrible grief there, but the small thing we humans can do is to sing of fullness and resonant loss. We are witness to both incredible beauty and immense sadness. Maybe that's a burden, but it's also our redress. Anyway, I so felt the presence of the wild world through this wide lens. A shaman song.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Brendan. A very sad shaman song, yet shamans are hyper-aware of earth's beauty, it is why they grieve its destructon so deeply. Sigh. I dont know what will be worse than kangroos and koalas burning. I am afraid to find out.
ReplyDeleteWe who listen do hear their cries. We need to commit to taking action, you're right.
ReplyDelete"We are a voracious species."...There can be no doubt about that. However hope is that there are still souls attuned with the wild soul of mother earth. May their tribe increase "to restore the soul of / the earth / to wholeness."
ReplyDeleteI cannot look back on 2017 without shuddering because it was the worst year of my life, but it is troubling to note in terms of your poem how many of your concerns have rapidly become reality in just 2 years. How much we have wept in the past 6 months for the loss of forests and wilderness in many parts of the world.
ReplyDeleteLove from Kerry.. the newly "unknown" to blogger!
DeleteSuch a sad end to an intelligent species--we've never been perfect, always flawed with greed, violence and short-sighted tribalism--but it used to be only ourselves that we harmed--now it's our home and every other living thing in it. Striking, and painful to read.
ReplyDeleteWe really should know better... and I know we can, I have seen so many things getting better in my life. The acid rain is gone, many of the rivers a lakes are cleaner now than when I was born, it's just that we seem unable to manage without burning the fossile fuel...
ReplyDeleteSherry, you write with a powerful pen but, I wonder if we can ever restore all the damage done. Sometimes, on my walk I will hug a tree it seems to ground me to something deeper in the earth.
ReplyDelete