I am the dark matter of my dark mother, burning deep in space;
I am the salty ocean of my tears,
tears shed for a world of possibility and despair;
I am the story of my ancestors, and the imagination of my daughter;
I am memories of the long journeys, of stories told in darkness by the fire,
and in the moonlight;
I am the cave paintings, and the handprints on the womb;
I am being born each moment,
new and fresh.
I am the parched Earth, the crying skies;
I am Imagination,
tapestry of humanity’s yearnings for the future,
depth of my own uniqueness.
And I am the dying Earth,
crying for the memory of the gifts she gave us,
of the struggles of my mothers.