Forming the Future
Don Hynes
Forming the Future
Many couples walked the park
their pictures taken among fallen leaves
in the golden light of October.
It was a bright day, one of the last
before the long rain and gray dim of winter.
I’ve been in this park so many times,
many days with few people,
particularly young women made up
in fashion boots beside glittering photo screens.
Gaia was a backdrop, a pleasant scene
upon which to project their image.
She didn’t mind, spreading Her lovely skirts
for Narcissus, but down bellow in Her deep belly
plates were grinding, continents shifting
on the vast Ring of Fire, moving
to a new destination, no matter
the vanity or image of the inhabitants.
There was a day long ago when high priests
and priestesses of an ancient culture
stood by rising water in their finest robes
knowing a fate in their final hours
they’d refused over many years.
We take little note of Gaia today,
Her poisoned oceans and skies,
Her earth a stage for childish plays.
Not only the rain is coming this winter;
with your ear to the ground
you will hear the sound of a new Earth,
a new land calling for a new people.
She isn’t demanding, only rising in a graceful way
for Her health, the place She must position
shaking to be born, casting off the fever,
the impurity of an age to be forgotten.
What will we remember, will we bring
into the place of our prophetic expectation?
Only the beauty of this autumn day,
the way we might have looked to Her
recalling our oldest memory, forming
the future our original Self requires.
Don Hynes