Let Mother Earth just be herself,
our every everything, just as she could be,
a radical sanctuary free of careless ravages.
Let her seeds make landfall in soft caverns
of soil, let blissful earthworms swirl their way
through a meadow as though they own it,
which they do.
Let our gatherings be as self-aware as a forest.
May sky’s edges be ribboned in bird-flight
with rustling life in rivers and ponds below.
May jeweled hummingbirds always find a flower.
May salamanders feed their rich silence with
the wetness in the moss.
For Earth, protect her creatures who dig and tunnel,
who gallop and bound, who slice and arch through seas,
who walk ponderously in wrinkled skins,
who build nests and dens with your pet’s hair.
May all creatures live their lives as if no human crushed asphalt
over the land or shaved ancient forests bald.
May my wishes for all I cherish about Mother Earth herself
chant endlessly, all hours, anchoring among stars. May evening find me
turning my hands up like this to gather blessings like rain.
May this religion be. Let it be.