the ensemble and symphony of life generating life
in stillness you can hear the chorus of her mattering
she's sizzling through quantum ripples
explosions of neural complexity
lighting webs in the darkness
infinity lit outward on the inside of our eyelids
But usually we can't see it. 'Cause we chopped God into pieces and made gods out of her.
Prophets could see it, sometimes. So they picked up our hammers
And sickles to smash the gods we had made.
but instead of healing Her scars
they just ground the gods into a fine dust
filling the lofty abstractions of vaulted cathedral ceilings and factory smokestacks
While she kept bleeding below
We can't see her in us
'cause we chopped God into fine pieces and made commodities out of her.
they pulled their separate ways across the globe
drawing and quartering her bodies
and taking ours with them.
We bow down in confusion and obey the works of our own hands.
But God is resurrected in creative reproduction
are we in labor with her, or is she in labor with us?
we don't know, all we know is it matters
that she be the life generating life
that we become
more than workers
our labor mediating the metabolism
between humanity and nature
she breathes in our labor
it is no longer labor