Mother of the World

The rivers are her flowing hair,
And the mountains are her breasts.
The forests are her fingers fair,
The meadows where her head rests.

The gleaming lakes are her eyes,
And the deserts her dusty limbs.
In the wind her ears are wise,
And her mind in the surging sea swims.

Her heart? Her heart is everywhere;
It beats in the running deer.
It beats in the stars in the night air;
It beats in the newborn infant's tear.

Air and earth and sea and flame,
And all contained within;
The greatest whale knows her name,
As does the smallest wind.

She lives, she dies, she breathes;
The hearts of humans and bees
Alike the mist of her being wreathes,
And binds into mysteries.

More profound than what is,
Because she is Were and Are;
She what Will Be and what Was,
Planet and slug, mouse and star.

She is the Mother of the World,
And to her there is a path
Every time your anger is hurled,
And every time you laugh.

Alive, you are part of her;
Dead, your body in the earth
Will make the worms whisper
With echoes of your mirth.

O, Mother of All Alive,
O, Mother of the Dead,
Protect us while we still strive,
And greet us when all is said.