She is Dying

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She is dying.

When the body is invaded by what it deems unnecessary, it fevers. It fevers to remove, to expunge, to eradicate that which is causing it harm. 

She is dying.

The temperature rises, and she feels awful, but she knows it is necessary. She knows she must wait it out, to be well again.

She is dying.

We know this too. We know this, and we continue running her towards death. We choke up her streams, we dam her lakes. We kill her children, we kill ourselves. Can’t you see? She’s had enough. She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for so long. Our greed, our avarice. She’s tried. She’s given. She gives and gives and gives and gives and she’s given. And we take and take and take and take and we’ve taken. But we are insatiable. 

We relish in her tears. We drink her blood. We pump the marrow from her bones, we tear the skin from her soul. We hunger, a hunger that has never stopped since it began. 

She has no more left to give. 

So now it is her turn to take. 

It’s the fires, raging across the land. Fire cleanses, it purifies.

It’s the floods, washing away her pain. Water sooths, it heals.

It’s the wind, conjuring cyclones and typhoons. Wind calms, it eases.

For so long, we have claimed the earth to be ours. A silly, human concept. We wage wars over the earth, over who owns what pieces of land. Wars over borders with our imaginary markings. We assign titles and ownership. We displace, we pillage, we abuse. But the earth is not ours. It never was, it never will be. 

If we cannot learn to live with her, if we continue succumbing to our greed, it is all over. 

Humans were made as part of nature. But we have rejected it, again and again. Don’t you see how we are making her sick? Don’t you see how she is our only chance at survival? Don’t you see that we must change?

No. You don’t. All you see is money, all you see is profit. 

There will always be someone else to bear the costs. As long as your house is safe and dry. As long as your house is comfortable. Who cares if others must live in squalor? Who cares if others must feed their lives to fuel yours? They are others. They are not us. The lives of others are negligible, they always have been. 

But the fever will purge, and will fever until it purges all. 

You think you can escape. You think that your money will shield you from the blood on your hands. You think that your money can buy your life, your health. You think that your money will protect you from nature as she descends?

As you descend with her?

And when your money has killed off everyone else, who will be left to recognise your worth? Who will you sacrifice? Who must die, before you do?

You think you are above it all. You think you are touched by god. You think air conditioning will last forever and you think oil supplies are inexhaustible. 

But she is dying.

And as she dies, so will you. 

I have nothing. I come from the temple, I work in the forest. I speak my thoughts to the trees, I water the gardens. When she wishes me to go, I will gladly accept my fate. We are one with nature, and we do not fight her. 

But you. 

You will fight her. You will fight her to your bitter end. You will resist. You will watch as everything around you disappears. You will watch as everyone around you dies. You will be there, claiming the pinnacle of humanity as you stand upon corpses. 

And you. 

Never happy with how you are, never happy with what you have. Only happy knowing others have less, only happy knowing others are worse. You will come to understand that in the face of death, we are all equally helpless. 

You. 

You do not realise. 

She is dying. 

But you know.

She is dying.

You do not realise.

But you will.

You will.