Green Mother
It has been a very long time. Strange that in all the millions of years I have roamed in this body- I have only begun to feel the burden of age in the last couple of centuries. Even as I walk through one of my few forests yet untouched by Man, I cannot help but be aware of this alien weariness that seeps my bones. I sigh and grimace as I come upon yet another tree, dying before I have decreed it so. It has been affected by Man's cities - so far away, yet not nearly far enough. I place my fingertips lightly upon its dappled bark. I can feel its pain - it cannot breathe with all this smog, it cannot find pure water, no matter how deep it searches. Closing my eyes, I locate the tree's golden spirit in my vast, encompassing mind and wrap my healing and will around it, letting my power sink into its heart. I open my eyes and smile: the tree is beautiful and healthy once more.
Continuing my meanderings through the emerald glade, I feel myself drawn to the nearby pond. It is a favorite of mine and I take particular pride in having created its pristine beauty. Grateful for the rest, I sink to my knees beside the still, clear waters and attempt to gather energy within me as I gaze at my own reflection. Green eyes flecked with hazel stare wistfully back at me, slightly haunted eyes that have seen too much. The flowers that flow as naturally from my scalp as my wheat colored hair are still blooming, but with each passing year, the buds diminish in size - a sure sign that my will is not what it once was. My skin is the color of dry earth and to my dismay wrinkles have begun to appear - subtly at first but now with a vengeance.
I sigh again and allow my mind to wander. As they have become prone to lately, my thoughts turn to my companion, Man. How wonderful it would be to be able to share this moment of peace with Him! But recently, He has become distracted from these simple things and swayed to worship strange deities that I do not fully understand. He tried explaining the allure of money, power and pleasure to me once, when it had first started to corrupt His mind, but eventually I had shook my head and left it at that. We have drifted. I remember when Man and I laughed together - I, respecting His intelligence and He, my power over His days. I gave Him my creations gladly and He, in return, honored me. The memory of His bitter descent into darkness tears at my heart. Now, through His fogged mind, Man thinks it natural to rip open my body, feeding His unquenchable greed with my creations. He cares not for my dwindling strength or my vanishing will. But what can be done? I call, but He does not hear my longing. I rage, but He does not acknowledge my desperation. I weep, but He no longer sees my grief. I am no longer a beautiful equal in His eyes - instead, I am reduced to nothing more than a tool of necessity. Slowly, it is breaking me.
My spirit clouded with such somber contemplation, I do not sense the little girl until she is standing next to me, a curious gaze complementing an uncertain smile. Startled, I remain silent at first when she asks me who I am in a sweet, clear voice. It surprises me that Man is capable of fathering such a pure child.
I am your friend - I eventually respond. It seems to be the best answer for now. She laughs delightedly and as soon as she catches her breath, she confides in me that today is her mother's birthday but she does not know what flowers to bring her. A smile slowly graces my face and I reach up to the flora in my hair and offer her a dozen perfect jasmine blossoms. She laughs again and the sound reaches through the haze of pain and touches my heart. I had not expected to discover such clarity and I find an equally joyful laugh drawn out of me that trembles through my body even as she scampers away, the very image of innocence.
Alone once again, I ponder recent events. My heart is noticeably lighter and I can still feel a shadow of a smile upon my lips. She has renewed my faith in Mankind, I realize. I know now that I will linger in anticipation for a while more. Maybe, there is still something salvageable left in Man. Maybe, if I wait a little more, He will remember me.
Open Your eyes, love - I whisper tenderly, achingly, and a light breeze carries my words to His ears.