Our Gaia

Our Gaia

Look down from space and feel wonderment,
right past the moon, as dry as bone dust, past
our landing spot in the sea of tranquility.

Catch your breath, see rising earth, aglow
a gleaming membrane of the brightest blue
that’s girded with great drifts of cloud,

Gaia is our ferry on this sea of existence.
The great oceans and rivers are her life blood,
the mountains, her spine, the land, her bones.

Ley lines, or meridians carry her life force.
We consume the great forests of her lungs,
pollute air, she breathes with moons pull.

We pour tons of concrete, steel and tarmac
on a heartbeat that pulses beneath our feet,
tearing wounds in her skin with our ploughs.

All Gaia’s living creatures are her senses,
seventy percent water, thirty percent earth,
about the same proportions as land and sea.

We are her seed, the forgetful progeny
of a super organism, we’re naked without earth,
a conscious assembly of earth’s elements,

know ourselves, we will know the universe.
Are we as fleas destroying our planet’s fine pelt,
or birds flying free, who rid her of parasites?

 

 

 

Gael Bage

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