Up in Shame

earth desert dry hot

Photo: Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

When the world hollows out

And the sun cooks up blame,

Don’t forget there were times

When we’d known

The con-game,

And yet chose –

To our shame –

Truth’s very core to

Maim.

 

We allowed

A shell-game

To carve the Earth

Up

In flames.

 

 

For dVerse Quadrille Monday: Up

 

After The Fire

after the fire DvoraFreedman

Photo: Dvora Freedman

 

After the fire

Come the expelled breath

Of sorrow,

The stripped soul

Of Earth,

The charred remains

Of dreams,

And the held breath

Of hope.

 

 

For the dVerse challenge: Fire

 

Vegetarian

tltweek98

tltweek98

 

“You are too late,” Sea lion said to Polar bear, “the ice is gone, the fish moved on.”

Polar bear’s heart sank but he stretched a smile over the hunger pangs.

“I know,” he managed. “Berries are moving in. Good thing I’ve gone vegetarian.”

 

 

For Three Line Tales Week 98

Pamper Someone Today

tom farmer

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Pamper someone

Today.

Cosset Mother Earth, and

Attend with care

To all her beings.

Indulge your loved ones, and

See to those who hurt.

Let others see to you.

Pamper someone

Today.

You will spoil nothing

By offering a plenty

In kindness

To others

And to you.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Mothering

tender care

Thankful

For mothering

In all its forms:

The immediate, the early, the continuous, the delayed;

The biological, the fostered, the adopted, the periodical, the incremental and the unusual;

To mothering by women, by men, by friends and neighbors, co-workers and teachers, siblings and relatives, by the kind smile of a stranger and moments of shared understanding;

To mothering by nature, by pets, by ocean waves, by breath and life’s constant flow and ebb;

To Mother Earth and Mother Moon;

To mothering of self, by self, by growth, by age and lessons learned and known …

To all of this, and more;

Thankful for mothering.

In all its forms.

tenderness

love2tree

Note: all photos are taken from Pintrest. If you know their original provenance I’ll be happy to add specific credits!

Earth Talk

earth1
It is Earth Day.

An odd day to have, when we consider that realistically, every day is an Earth Day. We live it. We breathe it. We would not be. Literally. Without it.

And yet, there’s Earth Day. To remind us of what so many of us may be taking for granted, to counter what too many do not want to accept as Truth, to open our eyes to what we can do better or more of or less of.

For the Earth, yes. But if that is not incentive enough–for ourselves. For our children and their children and their children’s children.

People vary in how well they hear Earth–or how willing. Some prefer to not hear. Others spend life more attuned to Earth than others. Most children do.

Children often are attuned to Earth. You see it in their intense attention to a crawling ant or an undulating earthworm. You see it in the careful handling of leaf and pebble and that tattered bit of some insect’s wing that you really don’t want to find in their pocket when you do the laundry. You see it in their awe. In how hard it is for them to tear their eyes away from listening to do whatever you find so much more important in that moment, but they don’t–for they are listening to the Earth’s heart.

Children listen. They are naturally attuned to the rhythm of what birthed them. Till we teach them not to. Till we fill their world with too many competing sounds and none-too-subtle visuals that they tune-out the ripple of the earth-talk for the beeping of their videos and ever-busy-schedule-noise.

The Earth talks. Most days it speaks softly, slowly. Other days it shrieks and growls and thunders, matching winds and storms peak to peak. Earth speaks. It has always spoken. Native Peoples everywhere have listened, been tuned in, respected both the cycles of the earth and the sanctity of the sanctuary it provides us.

They have loved and feared the earth–because for all its perfect habitat for people and our fellow living beings, the Earth is not a subtle being. It blooms explosively. It raptures in shuddering volcanos. It sweeps down in tornados and hurricanes.

Native Peoples listened to the subtle: to the slow drawl of the summer and the fleeting flutter of the spring. To the deep rumble of the winter and the dried crinkle of the fall.  They heard those just as they heard the fury and eruptions. Most of us today listen only when the voice is loud enough … when Earth Talk drowns all other sound.

Even then, do we hear? Do we listen? What do we understand?

The Earth talks. All of it does.

Trees whisper. They bend and laugh and cry. They may do less of it these days, with less of them to pass a whispering along to, but talk they do. Their voice is not quite heard as it is felt, reverberating down their trunks and through their roots. In case you wondered, a small one states with certainty that Fairies often speak back or translate–you can see their lights flicker in response …

Oceans talk, as well. If only we would listen.

The fish, the whales, the jellyfish and sand-beings.

The growing grasses talk. The roses sigh and blush. The daisies sing and bow to bees for their gentle contribution.

Animals all carry their own voice. Individual and harmonizing. In body-language, pose and poise, hum and throaty purr, cries and song.

If we don’t hear it, it is not from lack of conversation abounding all about us, but from dulling of the senses and a denial that makes it easier to not know. For we would not be able to go on abusing Earth and its inhabitants if we did fully hear and know, if we maintained an open eye. If we let our heart know.

Those among us who fight to remain open hearted to the Earth are often achy-hearted. Frustrated, too, and yet immensely hopeful. Because we know it can be–should be, could be, oh-please-would-be birthed anew.

All living things have a voice.  The whole Earth hums. Abuzz with sound. Much of it unhappy now, these days … but it can turn back. It can remember better times and calibrate its tuning forks and old-sung centuries.

Let us listen. Let us recognize the tunes that whisper life and harmony. Let us work to dim those wounded melodies that rasp pain and pollution and hollowed out caverns where resources were all but stripped out.  Let us amplify the ones that celebrate renewal.

Earth talks. May we hear, and see, and listen, and understand. For the sake of all that is, for our children–let us truly, fully, take a stand.