Babies Alone In the darkness Of the womb Live Not knowing Their mother’s life Sustains them; We, Born Into day’s light, Know not how Our earth’s life Sustains us. Baby hears The constant pulse Of heart and blood The distant harmonies Of voice and language, Rests in Liquid warmth And dark comfort Knowing nothing else. We hide In the rumble and grumble Of hard cities Rough with concrete, Glittering with glass, Where lights Shine like unnatural stars, Where we cannot hear Earth’s heart beat, Nor feel The pulse of her tides, Nor be seared by The volcanic heat Within Her deepest soul, Preferring not to know Our mother’s Face. But ultimately We are all Nature’s children. Written by Margaret Mair Painting, original art by Margaret Mair
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