Her hair is the autumn wind
a sweet congregation of coloured leaves
The thick white clouds are her faces
and her skin is the reddish bruise of sunset on the horizon
She spoke to me once
a silent wispy curl of wind
It carried the scent of pine from up the mountains
I sat in the pouring rain and listened
my clothes were drenched and my toes blue
but I sat
I listened
She told me of the morning dew
her own precious glistening pearls
She told me of her crown of figs and firs
Of wildflowers and green thorns
She told me of the hot and cold deserts
and of the winds that went round them and back
I saw her eyes
they held the brilliance of a hundred suns
A huge blazing inferno
She showed me the moon and stars in her palms
the firmaments of unearthly brilliance
She showed me her children
The dolphin breaking free from within foamy waves to the clear skies above
and the eagle, lord of the skies
She showed me the savannah
and a thousand stampeding buffaloes
and the leopard waiting to strike
She showed me the magnificent lion, king of the jungles with its golden blazing mane
I felt her breath
It was like the softness of a lover's gentle touch
I saw the contours of her face
like rippling forest shadows
I heard her laughter
like the sound of ice breaking on the frozen fjords
And then I saw her anger
the boiling lava that spews from her belly
spraying bright orange sparks
and the violent rumblings that ripped the earth apart
She told me of tsunamis and tornados and whirlwinds and floods
She told me of the balance of life, of giving and taking
And then the rain stopped and she was quiet
I still wonder why she was silent
Or perhaps I had forgotten how to listen
Sometimes, I still hear her whispers
like tiny stalks of grass tickling my back
beneath all the smoke and the smell of burning oil
Beneath all metals and the noise of flying jets
Mother Nature is a cruel mistress of terrible terrible beauty.
~Ridhwan.
