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Our Mother

Our Mother

Our Mother

 

Who art the heavens, 

the fecund earth, the ranges 

of granite, shale, schist raised from 

fires and freezes that flow, the storied 

rafters of trees who see all, the birds and 

the bees and the flowers who tend them, 

love them, the coursing waters filled 

with untold life, the crystals and 

fungi, the wholeness within 

which life takes its

terrestrial form,

 

hallowed 

be thy 

name.

 

Goddess.

Patchamama.

Mother. Nature.

Turtle Island.

Geb. GI.

Terra. 

Gaia.

 

Thy living

kingdoms of plants, 

animals, minerals come to 

see your will to thrive, to ascend 

the long shadow of dark imaginings

dimming, obscuring all that you are, 

be done now on your earth as it is 

heaven—returned to your native 

birthlight growing brighter, 

clearer, stronger with 

every breath.

 

Giving us 

this day, our daily 

stead: wheat, flax, maze and 

spelt, quinoa, fields of rice, berries 

and stoned fruits, herbs and greens, 

pulses, nuts, magical seeds—bounty 

feeding our hearts as readily as it 

feeds our bodies of clay, so 

arrayed in form and 

function like 

your own.

 

For giving

us robins, sky blue 

eggs, seashells, waterfalls,

oceans of hues, daffodils!, cocoa 

beans, whales, mosses, wildebeest,

hot springs, glaciers and dragonflies, 

bobcats, soils and sands, clouds 

and multitudes of raindrops, 

and a tilt of your axis 

that makes it all 

possible.

 

For giving

us life among such 

marvelous, generative 

sentience as this, your 

own magnanimous 

life force.

 

For giving

us your long true 

love with great father sun, 

creating such abundance for 

we who walk, crawl, swim, 

soar, thrive on your 

lands of plenty.

 

Forgiving us our 

trespasses upon these 

verdant veldts and plains, home 

to grasses and glades, beauties and 

beasts belonging to the heart, the soul 

of your ranging wildness, for displacing 

your blue green wonders, currents, 

with a false currency of green

muddling our spirit,

 

as we forgive 

ourselves, our kind,

 for trespassing upon your 

deep sacredness, against it 

and ALL that teems about and 

within you. Against our divine 

oneness with all that you 

are, that we might 

be, anon.

 

<< Forgive me. 

I love you. Thank you.

I’m sorry. >>

 

Lead us from 

the temptation to 

resume our plundering 

sundering in the name of the 

illusions of comfort we’re swayed 

to believe — to see — as real, more 

real than our need for your healing 

air and water and land and its 

organic living so that we 

might all—all of us,

live long and 

prosper. 

 

And deliver us

from the evil we perceive 

in the dark chasm of our separation 

from you, y/our nature, rendering us blind 

to the truth of this blue/green gift of existence, 

thinking we own what is, has always been, free, 

by stealing, buying, mining, selling, sullying your 

depths and treasure lying upon and far, far below 

the superficial valence of our sight, made blind 

to us without dollar signs polluting its value, 

its priceless worth, our destiny hiding 

in the smogged density of 

our mind’s eye. 

 

For thine 

are the kingdoms,

phyla, classes, orders, 

families, genera and species,

 the powers and the glories

of this incredible life,

forever and 

ever.

 

All men.

All women and 

children, all offspring 

of all kinds and color 

who come 

to be.

 

Here.

New, like you, 

our Mother Earth. 

Now. And ever

more.

Happy New Earth Day one and all!

*

© 2020 by Eve Moore.
© Photo by Eve Moore.

Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well. 

“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix

This poem was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.

 

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