And The Mother Said

And the mother said
You can turn on my earth
And in a trice
My children
Will be upon
The glistening clods
To do their colonising
And consoling work.

And you may desert
The plentiful place
And turn it bland
With monoculture,
The flourishing
With chemical
And beings augmented
And superior

All the while
Dashing yourself down.
But I will love you nevertheless.

And you may
Stricken the fertile
And the life giving,
Blemish it,
Injure it
And put it
To dust
And stone

And I will scar
For your learned eye
And then turn beautiful
With rest
And time
Fallow and forgiving.

And you may
Use me
Like your own heart used
And cut me
As your own blood flows
And deny me
As your own
Loneliness is made

In the crucible of your intention
And I will love you still
And whole

And love you
As only the land,
In its richness can

For killing is not mine
My children’s

And as the world turns
I will be
As I have been;

The force
The spirit
The energy

The lick of love
The empty space
The possibility

The lift
Behind it all,

The reason
And creativity

Rolling on, and endlessly on.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.