The Rape of Gaia & Wrath of God

Anahita came to me to mourn the rape of Mother Gaia, torn
Apart by her children under seeing Eye of God, whose wrath
Is kindled to bath of blood in vengeance of her innocence,
In defense of purity sublime; so she spoke of horrid crime.

Anahita of seas and waterways now polluted, spoke of disease
And days of drought to come, and not on some but all upon
This terrestrial ball… ‘You shall fall,’ said she in tears
Unleashed in trembling fear for our fate too late to change.

‘You have had your chance,’ sweet voice went on, ‘to dance
With Gaia while nature sings and brings you gifs so freely
And dearly, but…’ loud wailing then escaped open mouth
Now distorted, ‘you craved ill-gained gold and pained us all
… both great and small.’

‘Look up! Look up! Do you see your canopy ripping, dripping
With poison? Look round! Look round! Do you see waters brown
With profusion of pollution? Look down! Look down! In oceans
Far below, creatures frown while crown of life is shattered
… vivacity scattered.’

‘Listen! Listen! Heed the call anew of the holy Bartholomew!
Did he not say tis challenge for humanity, yet only sanity
To join together in care and preservation, for this is plain:
Humanity has plundered earth and torn asunder heavenly gift.’

Anahita bowed her beautiful head and said, ‘Instead of caring
For creation, you have infested and molested your kindred
And now God shall wipe from divine sight the blight of children
To heal plight of nature with laver of renewal; celestial favor.’

‘And what of you, child, so weak and mild?’ Anahita smiled sadly
And asked as she basked in stream of sunlight radiant; but madly
Pathetic man I am, I feel to the floor both to adore and to plead,
‘Have mercy! Have mercy! Have we no chance to change and enhance
In better ways our days of toil, to care for sky and sea and soil?’

Anahita nodded, then shook her head, took my hand and lead me forth
From lazy bed to cities of nations, and corporations, to associations
Of men dressed in best, with holes in their chest, where heart’s
Were missing with greed hissing; money-makers pissing away our future,
With not so much as a suture for inflicted cuts and ripped out guts.

‘Do you have an opportunity?’ Anahita asked and answered, ‘Yes, you do,
So soon as you rid yourselves of those who bid Gaia on auction block
And lock her away like whore for sale; no more! No more to ignore
Or give free reign to the wealthy insane in craving unhealthy gain
… impair these miscreants; repair creation!’

‘Clean the water, clean the air; share in food, be fair! Soothe the seas
And the bumble bees, and freeze exploitation of the earth that gives birth
To all that sustains what remains of life now so rife with suffering
And shame to the blame of those whose god is money and silvery honey…
Reparation will be your only salvation.’

So says Anahita of oceans fair, as she laid bare her soul to me so free;
But I wonder will the plunder continue because no one listens as the last
Fading flower glistens beneath tired sun, weeping stars and mournful moon,
Our fate so soon to meet without peep of concern, even as in lust we burn
For self-ease, ne’er on our knees to please Creatrix who would still lift
To care for gift freely given, to bless us to sweep clean our morbid mess?

Do we hear? Do we care? And can we bear the truth to begin this repair?
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