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Saturday, January 30, 2021

EARTHLINGS II

 


Upon your lap, my Mother Earth,
I listen to the river's song,
of renewal and rebirth,
that calls me home where I belong.

Like a tree, my roots go down,
deeply where there is no sound,
only earthworms burrowing,
through hallowed ground.

Like a tree, when harsh winds blow,
that assault me, then grow still,
the fickle weather helps me grow,
changing me, as weather will.

Like a tree, my centre lies
where human folly is forsaken.
Your heartbeat says:
Endure. Just wait.
These earthlings one day
will awaken.

from 2014 - shared with earthweal's open link
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8 comments:

  1. I am not holding my breath about earthlings awakening, but we can hope!

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  2. Beautiful poem and so we wait for this awakening into the light.

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  3. What a lovely way to spend an afternoon, Sherry, sitting on Mother Earth’s lap! A gentle poem that lifts my heart.

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  4. The old Irish poets believed all the rivers had their source in sacred trees rising from the Otherworld. Thanks for showing the way home. - B

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  5. I hope you are right Sherry. The sleep has gone on far too long.

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  6. I love the metre here, especially:
    'only earthworms burrowing,
    through hallowed ground.'
    A magical communion with Mother Earth.

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  7. Sherry,
    I love trees. As you may know, I live among the pines. There's strength in this poem and the softness of everything around the woodland.

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