Breezing along Highway 89A on my regular Saturday trip to Sedona this morning, I heard Mother Earth calling out to the man in the huge earth moving truck that was working to expand the highway.
“How dare you disregard my offspring! How dare you pull from my body the follicles that feed you? I have begotten the ones whose roots tentacle down into my skin to be replenished so that they may grow and bear fruit for you. As you, and your kind, bulldoze the epidermal layer of my body you play like ill-mannered children who have not been taught to value anything but yourselves, and you toss away the life I have given you as if it were your own waste material.
How dare you forget that even your own waste material is of value when disposed of deep into the ground, then covered over, so that it may decompose and feed itself back to my body as nourishment for the next cycle of being. How dare you dig deeper, ripping and tossing, as your siblings the Creosote Bush, the Yucca Plant, the Prickly Pear, are crying out in anguish and pain?
When your large, yellow, metal, ride toy on large black rubber wheels roll over the hills and valleys of my exquisite body, the pathways I have formed to move the waters and provide the prickly habitats for indigenous critters are demolished. You have left water on over night, to soften my body so that you can carve it away in a few days, which has turned to ice and brought shivers to the lizards. As you tear into my body, take lubricant from my veins, water from my cells, and explode missiles down deep in my belly, why do you wonder about my quaking, the uncontrolled spilling of my waters, and the shifting of my skeleton?
How dare you mix the very lubricant of my body, with the minerals of my own life support to create a sealant that will not allow my skin to breath and my offspring to survive? Isn’t the road you have here enough?”
Road to Sedona
© Shayna DeArmon 2001
you tell them mother! :)
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