Mother Earth

I listen to you Mother Earth, like a child.
I stare up to you with innocent eyes, knowing nothing of the universe but you.
I listen to your sounds, sweet sounds of water whispering songs of my ancestors.
Unspoken stories we often forget to tell.
I listen for answers in the wind, gentle reminders that we are not alone in this world.
The magnitude of your breezes use mountains as chimes,
Conversing with rivers, lakes and oceans as friends older than age,
Together to wake each other on the splendor of theirselves.
I see the pious colors of your palette, devoted to nothing but to your valleys and peaks.
My eyes fall in love with your greens, blues, blue greens, emeralds and ceruleans,
Hues that hug as deeply as the depth of your deepest caves,
Hues that help us forget us of the darkness we often feel inside.
I also see the rage that breeds within your womb.
You are angry.
I feel it in the relentless capture of the sun,
I feel it in the volcanos filled with anxiety and angst,
I feel it in the ice freezing the nine rings of hell.
I feel it when you snap giants like twigs,
I feel it when you burn acres at your will,
I feel it when you unleash storms that do nothing but weep.
I pause.
Now, I understand why.
We may listen,
We may see,
We may feel,
But we can never bend you.
Mother Earth,
You: a universe of atoms. We: atoms in your universe.
