The dark earth is warm and safe,
a tender mother soothing her young in times of trial and misfortune
she does weep and grieve.
And in the midst of those bitter tears
are the droplets of joy in the realization
that she has children to comfort and
at times they are happy.
Her breath is the sweet scent of dirt and grasses
mixed with the clean spring breeze.
Her laughter ebbs and flows with the tides.
When she is melancholy it rains and clouds cast
angry shadows on her open face.
When she is happy, she glows in the sun.
She is the mother, the gifted green earth
which both shatters and protects.
She both loves and casts off her young as she chooses.
Her children have become spoiled,
taking what they want until she
has no more to give them.
She is wounded by their wars.
Now she is calling out to them to return
to her. To drop all that they are doing and
be still for a moment that she might speak and
She does not punish, as they have punished themselves,
but she shakes and yells out on the gales of wind
for her children to return to her.
Sadly, they only come to her when
they are wounded and have no other to
cure their wounds and woes when
they are broken in the heart.
But as a mother, she listens and opens herself up.
Here, she is safe and warm
keeping all of their secrets, even unto the grave,
weeping and mourning for them.