As I drove back from dropping the kids at school today this poem floated down to meet me.
I feel confused about the decision our country has made today, and it is difficult not to feel hopeless. When things seem to change so rapidly it is hard not to feel out of control.
But some things are still the same. The air I breathe, the ground beneath my feet, and the scent of the roses in my garden. We forget our days are so brief, and the earth so old, so knowing.
Who can think they own the earth?
That the leaves on the trees unfurl at their command?
Who believes they make the sun rise and set?
From dust you were born and to dust you will return.
Eventually the ground will swallow you again.
For a while she allows you to walk on her land,
to feel the sand beneath your toes,
to lie in her meadows and wash in her streams.
She knows you are temporal.
She looks on your borders and smiles a sad smile
On your carving up of wealth and wonders,
why do you think you are in control?
She is the one who remains.
The globe will continue to rotate
The sea will continue to kiss the land
The sun and moon will continue their dance,
long after you are buried and gone.