Into the Wildwood

My beautiful great-granddaughter,

Lunabella

When I want desperately
to save the whole world
and all of its suffering
animals and people,
but I can't,
I go into the wildwood,
where the yew tree drips soft rain
onto the ferns below,
all standing at attention,
faces upturned gratefully,
deeply drinking.

It is difficult to care so much
about all that is broken, unjust,
full of pain, where there should be
joy and thriving,
equity and promise.
Justice.

How can I tell Lunabella,
with her eyes so full of dreams,
who has never known anything but joy,
that the world is dangerous,
and one day will hurt her, cloud her
luminous eyes with tears?

"You are wise and brave,"
I will say, instead, "and your dreams
will take you journeying."

I will tell her, "Listen for
the singing birds within the forest.
Place your hand on the trunk
of Grandfather Cedar;
feel his heartbeat.
Bathe under the smile
of Grandmother Moon.
When the world feels prickly,
go into the forest, and
allow the nature spirits,
the trees and the wild ones
to fill you with peace."

When I want so desperately
to save the world and all its
suffering ones, but I can't,
I walk by the sea,
where the only sound
is the song of the waves,
roaring and mighty,
beating in time with my heart.
My footsteps on the sand,
weighted by the earth grief I carry,
wash away behind me,
as I turn my face towards
those better tomorrows
that must emerge
from all of this sorrow
for the sake of the children.