A Child of Gaia, Mother Earth, Pachamama
Sometimes I miss the hills, the plains, the mountains, the red, the brown, the gold of the land that I haven't seen for a while. The times I traveled the rivers, following the swimming fish. The times I knew the Stallions, the Wolves, the Eagles, the Snakes, as my brothers and sisters. The times we bathed together in the fresh spring waters. The times we told our stories around the crinkling coals, of burned out fires. The times we listened to the hum of the land and followed her lead when she was ready to provide fruits of fertility...
Sometimes I miss the beginning and openings of the forest. The green, the dampness, the softness beneath my feet. The roughness of the tree skins, the coolness of the tree leaves, the fragility of the forest flowers, the calming of the forest stream. The times I knew the Deer, the Squirrel, the Crow, the Lizards as my companions through the green canopies.
I can almost remember seeing the Moon from different lands, different times. I remember not making it through childbirth, in hot and barren land. Accusations and punishments from my brown, curly haired brothers. I remember fogs and mists in a lush green land. I remember hiding in fear, in the middle of winter. I remember Moon light down a night time river, in a canoe. I remember mistrust in a columned, stone temple. I remember being somewhere totally different, with different forms. I remember ships, not traveling in water. I remember being closer to the stars.
I remember being powerful. More often I remember being vulnerable. I remember what I came to do. Many times, I forget and had forgotten. I remember missions. I remember goals. I remember pleading, ‘please give us another chance.’
Is it all my imagination? Who’s to say? But these are All my connections. I fully accept. I don’t belong to just one place in the world. One race. Or One anything.
What do you remember?