Grace and Peace to you.
Go out upon the earth.
Walk among trees.
Lay your hand on their bark,
notice the kinship of skin, of bone
of wrinkle, spot and bug.
Ignore your clothing, let it fall
away from your mind,
rubbish blowing in the woods.
Really, you're a critter,
one of those with whom this world teems,
a muscle of this flesh,
an organ of this creature,
with whom you share the long knowing
of gravity, the flow of blood
from mountain springs
through your clay channels to the sea,
the sun's alchemy of heat to light,
and leaves' of light to food,
and yours of food to heat.
The priest of your body's weight,
the trembling of your hands,
your faithful beating heart and breath,
pronounces your belonging,
and blesses all root and leaf and flesh
that is your life,
the wind and lung's dark sex,
the unknown wisdom hid behind
the closed eye of your body,
your cell's unceasing praise.
All garments, buildings,
pavements and devices are a ruse
to separate your flesh from flesh.
We humans are of humus, raised;
your atoms, all, are of this dirt,
once spirit-blown and then
a thousand times,
and will return and rot and boil and bloom
a thousand more.
Oh, fragile, living tissue, sing with joy!—
for you are of this heaven,
sacred soil ensouled,
no passing thought, but flesh,
created flesh, and blessed to be
Happy Earth Day.
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes