Friday, February 28, 2014

Mother Nature [Prose]

"She's dying, you know," he whispered, tracing the rough bark under the palm of his hand, an invisible trail that lead to the looming willow's roots forming under his touch.

"Who?" she asked, sitting beside him.

His lips curved into a slight frown, though his brow was furrowed with impatience and annoyance. "Mother Nature."

"We're killing her. She provides us a home, and in thanks we destroy her, skin and bones."

The girl remained silent, thankful for the shade of the weeping willow’s drooping leaves as she curled her finger around one of the vines. A leaf departed from the rest, and she imagined it as a single tear, dropping towards the Earth.

"And they may never get to meet her, the one's who aren't here yet. Won't know her comforting embrace as she shifts the hair from our eyes, or her beaming smile in the radiant warmth. Their eyes will never know her beauty. Only the wreckage and destruction of her aftermath.”

“Her veins are these roots, reaching across lands and connecting us all to one home. She ignores borderlines because there are none; she doesn't differentiate or discriminate by location.”

His hands continued to trace the thick roots resting near-hidden under a blanket of leaves, the vibrant red and orange hues creating their own quilt pattern. The roots snaked their way to another thick tree trunk, though neither could tell what type of tree it belonged to. All that remained now was a stump.

“We’re not the only beings that occupy this space,” he said, kneeling towards the skeletal remains of the tree. Around the base of the stump were thin branches, pinecones, and scattered acorns. “Some poor creatures just had their homes hijacked, so that we may use it instead,” he shook his head in dismay as he stood, slowly leading her towards the edge of the forest.

A brook separated them from the towering city, buildings blocking their view of the sun. A mist was drawn around the town, which seemed cold and unwelcoming in comparison to the vibrant flowers that currently surrounded them. The clear stream rushed against the dark stones that scattered the water’s path, its roaring current breaking the silence.

“I wonder if they’ll know this clarity,” she said, kneeling towards the brook to cup water between her hands. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled it back, and he shook his head.

“They won’t. This will be dry by then. The environmental sciences will become a thin chapter in their history books. Or perhaps there will be an entire book, solely for the history of the planet that once was. A planet they likely won’t occupy.”

“This entire forest will be burned for the land, once the stronger trees are cut,” he said, motioning to his right. “And this brook will be bone dry, the water bottled up and sold. These are no one’s to take, yet they are.”

They walked a bit farther, until the roar of the stream was drowned out by the freeway above.

“We’ve created monsters,” he said, pointing towards the cars as they zoomed past. “Their breath will boil the air.”

“There will be something better, after cars. I’m sure they’re working on it right now. Something not nearly so destructive.”

“These generation’s innovations have been reeked chaos long enough that the damage is done. But they’re not the worst kind of monsters here,” he said, turning his back to the highway as he headed back to the forest. “We are.”

Her head swayed towards the highway, then to the boy, and back again. She frowned, running towards him to catch up.

“We’re killing her,” he repeated, resting once again against the roots of the willow. The girl blinked at him, surprised by the calm in his voice.

“So what do we do? Petition the mayor, hold a rally? There must be something!”

“We warn the children,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Warn them that their children won’t know this place the way we do. That if we take Mother Nature for granted, she will abandon us. Flowers won’t bloom, water will be drained, and this Earth will slowly self-destruct. They need to grow up with that thought drilled into them, so that consideration for a solution is as natural as this forest.”

The wind howled, and the vines above them rustled and swayed as if the looming willow were singing its own sad song.

“Do you hear them?” he whispered, his ears perked towards the sound. The entire forest was suddenly alive with sound; the crunch of leaves as scampering critters ran across the carpeted ground, the plunk of acorns as they hit the hard soil, the chirping birds as they flew with the wind.

“They’re living now, while they still can.”

The girl looked around, seeing the home the forest provided as a whole. Her eyes focused on the roots below, watching them wind a path farther than she could see.

“You said the roots connect us?” she asked, pointing to the snaking trail of the willow’s tubers. She didn’t wait for an answer. “All of us? Without differentiating?”

He nodded, brushing his hand once more against the willow’s roots.

“So this responsibility is all of ours,” she said. “If this Earth is for all of us, then the responsibility must be shared. This is a worldwide obligation.”

“A worldwide obligation to save the world,” he said, smiling.

“Mother will be so pleased.”

© 2012 | Jazelle Handoush
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(Photo Credit: metsjeesus)

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