I know I am made from this earth, as my mother's hands were made from this earth, as her dreams came from this earth and all that I know, I know in this earth, the body of the bird, this pen, this paper, these hands, this tongue speaking, all that I know speaks to me through this earth.
This earth is my sister; I love her daily grace, her silent daring, and how loved I am. How we admire this strength in each other, all that we have lost, all that we have suffered, all that we know: We are stunned by this beauty, and I do not forget: what she is to me, what I am to her.
I am not so different in my history of abandonment from anyone else after all. We have all been split away from the earth, each other, ourselves.
It is a grief over the fate of the Earth that contains within it a joyful hope, that we might reclaim this Earth.
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