Returning to the Soil - Jan 23 2022

 

Returning to the Soil

Jan 23 2022

The twister touched down

where no one noticed

in a forest of swamp and bush.

Dead bodies,

animals caught in the wind,

sound that went unheard.

And trees, torn from the ground,

strewn like fallen columns

when the temple was sacked.

Tornadoes rarely happen here;

or at least the ones that count.

So we feel exempt

from the wrath of nature

in our prosperous peaceful land.

But when we stumbled upon this scene

walking in the woods

we felt less sure;

the destructive power of wind

its utter randomness.

Yes, today passed uneventfully.

But somewhere on the planet

the sky fell

the water rose

the drumbeat of war grew loud.

There is always calamity

if you open the aperture wide enough.

That meteor in Siberia, the volcano in Greece.

The continental plate

floating under our feet

on a roiling magma sea.

When even solid ground

can't be counted on.

So I go about my business,

resigned and fatalistic

and sometimes in denial,

accepting what I can't control

and managing what I'm able.

Yet when we returned, 5 years later,

we were surprised to see the ground had greened

birds sang

the air was soft and fragrant.

New shoots had sprung

from living roots

and were reaching for the sun.

And the fallen trees

— where flowers bloomed

and fungi thrived

and verdant moss grew lushly —

were almost beautiful

as they crumbled and softened

and slumped into the ground.

Returning to the soil;

because nature wastes nothing

even when she destroys.