Friday, 22 April 2016

Gravity (a poem for Earth Day)


The earth has learned the virtue
of turning the other cheek,

of letting bygones be,
of being slow to wrath.

Sure, she has 
her bouts of temper,
her quakes and lava flows,
her pelts of bruising hail
and her roar 
of whipping winds,

but when all is duly said,
when we’ve torn 
her groves of hair
out from her crown
of muddied hills,

when her lungs 
are filled with soot,

her pools of sight 
with sludge,

she refuses 
to let us go,
let us float 
to cosmic realms
where we’d meet 
our dying breath,

thereafter start 
her time of healing.

Perhaps she simply needs 
our presence,

the sound 
of Celtic harps
within her caves,

the times 
we’re not so bad
and shower love
upon her babes,

the pups, 
the kittens,

the birth
of a million birds
who soar like kites 
on her many strings.

Andreas Gripp

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