Mother’s Day

No matter the difficulties one faces,
no matter the complications of one’s life;
it matters not to the spirits of the Earth.
Terra is ancient and feels her age;
She is fractured and sere, swollen and sodden,
She is abused, consumed, drained, and spent.
She has been infected, polluted, fouled, and corrupted by those she has nursed.
She, as is a mother’s wont, has exhausted herself in feeding and sheltering her charges.
She has provided food, water, fuel for warmth and cooking,
air to breathe, and clean breezes for cooling and sails.
She has allowed man to torture her, rip her open to take her minerals, destroy her hills and valleys.
She has accepted that her denizens care only to grasp more and more from her,
ignoring her screams, groans, spasms, eruptions, and gasps;
her outbursts only a concern for their own safety.
What do we owe our Mother?
Do we not owe her at least the respect she deserves for her aeons of nurture?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 8 May 2016