Tag: nature writing

Be like the Earth. She doesn’t care if you love Her or think She’s beautiful. She continues existing the way She has always existed; She continues doing exactly what She has done since She was born. Some people revel in Her beauty. Some destroy it: they tear Her down and tell Her how She should be and try to change Her to meet their needs. But She does not change; She does not bend. She continues to be how She always has been. The streams that have always flooded continue to flood. The forest fires continue to burn. Droughts continue to dry the land. We blame Her for being herself, for refusing to change for us, and yet She continues on. 

Be like the Earth. It is okay to catch fire– it clears crowded places and makes them clean. Let there be drought and flood to allow seeds to germinate and grow. The universe is inside you– do not fear these times. Do not dam the floods within you or try to put out your fires. Let them cleanse you, let them grow you, and no matter what, continue to persevere.

Be like the Earth: cause earthquakes in cities you never wanted built in the first place.

Be like the Earth // a.s.m 

i yearn for her now, 
amid car horns and
coffee-stained sidewalks.
under bare, lifeless sky, 
i long for her shade.
these streets are swarmed, but
there is no life until
 
the wind blows and i am 
reminded she is here, among the
hard highways of Houston; 
she is waiting for me
to find her.

life after lights // a.s.m

i want to see all of you,
every inch. every
mountain, every forest,
every ocean, every river
and canyon. i want to know
every mark on the map,
and i want to fall in love
with all of it.
i want to see and know
this is where i belong.
that you are a part of me
as much as i am a part of you.

let me lie in your valleys // a.s.m

dear little egg, you’re
going to open your eyes
for the first time in a white
room, not knowing that 
my childhood home is now
underwater. and when 
you are older, i will let
you run in the back yard
without shoes on, but
you will never know the comfort
of sinking into healthy
soil. you will never understand
what it means to make a mark on
the earth that does not hurt
it. 
seven years’ worth of leaves
will still be decaying, and 
i will not know how to explain 
where they came from. 
i will not know how to explain
to you that other beings used to
live here, too, or
that there was once another planet
underneath a green canopy and
in autumn, the skies would 
bathe in fire.

i hope we’ll be living with windmills // a.s.m