I am sick of the world of sad, angry men

The Earth is sick of the world of sad, angry men

Men are sick of the world of men

The trees, plants, the breath, the air is sick and weeping for a reprieve from the world of angry men

The Earth and I have come to the end of putting up with angry men

The God and I have come to the end of putting up with sad, angry men

The Earth and I have come to the end of being the one who is open, who is willing to discuss, to nurture, who is willing to love, and who is met with nothing but landfill, but walls, but infantile stupid rage that has never known what it is like to feel a cage, what it is like to be-at-the-mercy, to be afraid

The Earth and I have been yelled at by men, spat on by men, we have been called names, we have had our body disrespected and our soul assaulted, and still we have gone forward with kindness and willingness to listen and give and nurture

In doing so, the Earth and I have denied our own rage

We have denied our own right to existence

We have been afraid of our own rage

We have been afraid of our strength

We have been afraid of the destructiveness we are able to unleash

But slowly, we see it’s this rage, this strength that can save us

We see, it’s this rage, this strength that we need

The Earth and I are ready to tell tales of revenge, written in blood and brimstone and salt, with pincers and tentacles and small, broken shells

The Earth and I are waking up to the knowledge that we have been wronged and this is dangerous for those who have wronged us

The Earth and I have opened our eyes and we can hear the wails of all the Earths and all the I’s, and for every wail the Earth and I join in, we wail back and with, like a cradle, like a dancer, like a cipher

The Earth and I begin to rip open the delicate closing of wounds that we have worked so hard to suture, to put away, to tuck away, the delicate silence of suffering and the belief that suffering is the answer and that by suffering all will be okay

The Earth and I look around with our eyes open, and see that things are very fucking not okay

We are very fucking done with carrying the suffering of those who do not do the work with us, the Earth and I

We want to hear the other side of the soul

We want to hear the immense pitter-patter of the beating heart that comes forward in the light, where all the corners, all the folds, all the secrets are exposed and drenched in light

We want to loose all the secrets like a storm that keeps us silent, all the shame that is meant to keep us passive, receiving, but never acting, never vital

This shame was never ours, the Earth and I say, in our dutiful way we took it on, we made it larger, we let it live

But no more — the Earth and I refuse to nurture that which is rotten

We refuse to protect those who have hurt us

The microcosm is the macrocosm, we say

The intimate is the global

As above, so below

As within, so without

I and the earth bleed

I and the rotating Earth change and turn

I and the water and all things that with pain and anger and wanting and needing open outwards

To protect the vulnerability in the Earth and I, we need to defend the softness and let it grow anew

We need to kill the voice inside us that says hush

For, those said to defend us injured us, those said to love us hurt us

We are done, today, with the benefit of the doubt

We are done, today, with just-wait-it-out

We are done, today, with be-the-bigger-person

We are done, today, with a love that stands alone and only feels the coldness of the clearing it’s met with

We are ready to be the flame

The heat

We are ready to take up space

We are ready for the torrents that come, the vipers and vespers, the banshees, the locusts

We greet the fire, the Earth and I

We greet the fire, and we say, grow

Mars fill moon, the Earth and I

Fire fill water, sun fill sky

Mars fill every open eye

Call in the Gods

The Gods and I

 

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Sandra Huber is a writer and PhD candidate in interdisciplinary Humanities at Concordia University. Visit her at sandrahuber.com