The earth sings to me,
I can hear her voice
in the dark loam.
Away from her,
I am divorced from my own flesh.
At home in her, my head upon the dirt,
I hear her heart beating.
I hear the sounds of my mother's womb,
of earth, of the rhythm of life.
It resonates in the deep droning voices
of Tibetan monks and
Australian didgeridoos.
I hear her laughter in the high, sweet reed notes
the wind plays through the trees.
She smiles through the tiny, blinding fragments of light
that splash across the broken water's surface.
I meet her juicy wet kiss
in the fallen peach,
Her promise of life,
in the stone the peachflesh reveals.
Earth, wind, fire, water,
these elements, they parent me.
I am located, defined and made real by them,
apart from them, I feel not,
apart from them, I am not.
They are God.
