To Heal in Surrender

For our breathing Earth

Can you remember a time when you fell to your knees? 
With nothing within you, 
but "Oh Allah, please". 

A plea for some light, 
for hope, 
for ease. 

Not to be heard - but listened to,
with such precision, 
that actions fall divinely through. 

Not dramatic, 
not romanized,
but like tending a wound.  
In the way, only Allah can do.

Forgive me, 
But it can feel more than tiring,
Although I wish to deny,
I feel my heart-breaking.

To be loved, 
yet still feel your heart aching. 

I cry for the Earth,
she feels our love, too.
Yet I hear her soul scream,

“It’s not enough!” 

She reminds me, 
Allah is there, 
always. 

The Earth knows this better than us. 
Isn’t she the beauty that reminds us daily of His greatness? 

And yet, she hurts. 
Still, she screams. 

Earth and human,
companionship,
is what was meant to be. 

Yet now, 
we don't hold her,
unless as a captive. 
So, we sink too.

Our social hearts,
search for belonging. 

Our bodies,
suspended in longing. 

We, the activists, the earth lovers, the tree huggers,
we know this in our bones,

Her rivers — tears, 
Her storms — release, 
Her seasons — self-process,

just like our own.

So, how must she feel, when we,
her kin, succumb to hopelessness? 

Like a dear friend, giving up on healing? 

I’m sorry, dear Earth. 

The tears run dry, 
just as the rains cease. 

And when they return,
not healing cries,
but bleeding cries. 

Not uplifting, 
but drowning. 

The dams make sure of that. 

Instead of a gentle trickle, 
a communicating tear, 
we watch glaciers melt — 

not in centuries, but decades. 

Because we’ve clogged the Earth’s tear ducts, 
and profited from her sadness. 

Then we anger at her for flooding cities with her pleas? 

Ya Allah, please bring her ease. 

We have stepped on her arteries, 
to collect the "potential energy" of her life, 
to power cities that exchange love for profit. 
The abuse is rife.

Like tearing a mother from her child, 
and gagging them both with machines,
That extract, for profit, 
from their attempts to scream. 

It is sick. 
Please forgive us. 

And water holds memory — so, really, it’s much worse. 

Not just collecting her screams, 
we’re severing her memory, 
her self-connection. 

Without emotional memory,
flowing like blood through capillaries, 
like water through creeks — 

how can she know her ancient beauty? 

She cannot escape to the safety within her physiology. 
We’ve taken that too. 

So of course, Earth’s digestion slows. 
Of course, the soil stops breathing. 

Do the microbes still wish to communicate across continents? 
Or did they pick up the story long ago,
— and realize the humans won’t listen? 

After living the same torture over and over, 
even pain becomes dull, 
not numb, but uninteresting. 

So yes, the biosphere begins to fall silent. 
Recedes from its abuse,
it suffers in silence. 

Extractive farming,
damaging mining, 
water concentration camps 
— the dams — 

Collecting Earth’s trauma,
extract energy for control. 

And the Earth knows,
 she (tries) to weep for us too. 
Yet we collect the tears, 
instead of feeling them through. 

Please, let us know: micro-organisms are wise. 
They know to shut down
 — just as our vagus nerve does after our spirit’s demise. 

Why should Earth be different? 

Let us admit: a limit exists. 
Some relationships become too toxic to mend. 

So, dear Earth — close the loop. 
Stop sending out messages to deaf ears. 

Amplify within. 

Reconnect your own circuits, 
not to fight,
but to live. 

We are here. 
We are listening. 
Bismillah — we are awake. 

We will give you space,
to mourn, 
to scream, 
to cry, 
to connect. 

We see you. 
We respect you. 
We will: 

break the dams — giving meaning to your tears 

plant the trees — giving breath to your lungs 

kiss the soil — giving love to your nerves 

question our needs — and receive only what is given. 

...

A teaspoon of healthy soil contains more life than there are people on Earth. 

If we cannot shrink before your beauty, 

Oh Earth, 

how will we ever bow truly, 
before Allah? 

Our shared Creator.