I wrote this essay during the time of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. It was a terribly sad time for the planet Earth, and I still recall watching the news coverage showing the dolphins and birds and turtles drenched in oil.
Many Christians have unfortunately become “so heavenly-minded that they are of no earthly good.” There are many contradictions in western Christianity these days, and one of them is that many believers don’t seem a bit concerned about the beautiful garden that God created for man to live in. It says in Genesis that after each day working upon His creative masterpiece, “He saw that it was good.”
~♥~
I am the Earth (and I am Bleeding)
My children, my children, what have you done? I am bleeding, and there is no one who can help me now. A blood vessel in my heart has broken, and no one can seal it. I have given all that I can. I am old and tired, and my wisest sons cannot find an answer to my sickness.
You are unruly and selfish children, and you have never loved me as you should. You only care what I can do for you. All of your wealth and comfort has sprung from me, and you have glutted yourselves on my generosity and goodness. Now you have wounded me, and I cannot find a healer among you.
Who will give me a transfusion when my blood has clotted and my veins are hardened? My heart is full of sorrow for you…What shall become of you when I am dead? When I become a dry crust of bread with no water, what will you do?
We, your children, watched as your heart chamber erupted with fire and thundering and red smoke, and you began to cough up blood. You gagged and sputtered and eleven of your children died. Your amniotic oceans are bloody and infected with yellow mucus and plasma.
We have violated you, like a cheap harlot. We have thrust tubes and great spikes into your bloodstream so we can draw out your blood and sell it, and we have fought great wars over the ownership of it. We have bludgeoned your bones with great hammers and drills, until it is pulverized into powders and dust. With great fists, we have struck down your hills and mountains until they are flat. We have ripped out your green thickets and vines by the roots, and tattooed you with hot black tar. We have choked you with giant concrete cigarettes puffing arrogantly in our cities. Our greed is like a bottomless pit.
We have become our own enemy, for we have sickened our mother. Is it too late? You have hemorrhaged for over forty days and nights. You cough sputum and blood onto the shores which threaten our homes and crops. Will your infection scab over and dry up, or will it catch fire in the feverish summer heat? We are afraid for you, but mostly for ourselves.
A pelican dives in and gobbles up poisoned fish. A seagull’s wings are heavy with sludge and never fly again. Dead fish rise to the surface, cloaked in your blackened blood.
What have we done, dear Mother? Are you mortally wounded? Now we are afraid. If our mother dies, shall we all perish? Who will sustain us?
Forgive us, Mother, for we don’t know what we are doing.
~♥~
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I love this description by Black Elk of his vision in which he saw the son of Wanekia, the Great Spirit:
Drifting into the Divine ~♥~ 