Even if you don’t like yourself,
the Earth adores every fire-light cell
of your body.

She proves it with beatitudes of air
in your impatient lungs,
with the artesian crest of saltwater
in each throb of your heart.

Even if you despise yourself,
Earth is handing you the quiet canticle
of an old growth forest. It is touching you now.

Drink Earth’s declaration of love
with snowmelt, droplet and tide.
Eat what was once alive, living on
inside you in metabolic communion.

Find Earth’s commitment behind
the devotion in a dog’s eyes
or in the milky smell of a newborn.
It’s like that, quiet colors crossing into
every other sense. In our matrix
we are all alive like this.

Can you feel life’s magic above
in the throats of autumn geese?
And in how grain bends down its heads,
offering seeds back to the primordial Mother?