I save the world by loving Her.
April in Sandy Mush, the new green apple leaves,
so soft, each flutters a different way
at the slightest breeze;
the butterfly, fresh out of the cocoon,
careening downhill, already a crackerjack
at navigating with her iridescent wings;
the blackberry blossoms, full of themselves,
wide open to the hungry and meticulous bees.
The air is filled with buzzing things,
delirious with the sun’s warmth.
Even a cloud floating high
seems to smile with delight.
It is true, I know,
someone crouches somewhere in a room,
cut off from the world,
fervently praying that the next gunshot,
the knock at the door,
does not come his way.
I know somewhere,
a mother walks miles for a jug of water
diverted from her village to sluice the mines.
I know the world will end, or so they say.
But Gaia exhorts me,
“Look at me! Take notice!
For you I have perched these roses on their stems,
for you I bring the striped grasshopper
to set beside you,
and the wild turkey walks, stately,
through the woods.
Are you listening yet?
For you, four wide-eyed deer
come to gaze at your body while you sleep.”
I cannot ignore her, I cannot turn away.
It is my job to love Her, and She is vast,
and long, and wide, and huge;
I save the world by loving Her,
and in this way, She saves me.
April 13, 2012