‘Think of the earth as a place of stillness,
constantly receptive, carrying all.’
Do you think then, it could cure this illness
filter and cleanse and purify this gall?
It rises to meet me in the morning
and stays beside me eating at my day
refusing to heed all flags of warning
and waving arms and shouts of ‘Stay away!’
I have no wish to emulate the earth
except to clench into a tight bound sphere
shake off the dross, keep only that of worth
by simply holding close what I hold dear.
To heal my earth I have to hear it plain
and gather in before I give again.