I am;

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.