The poem is in response to
Dr. Suzanne Simard's interview.
By Antonia Alexandra Klimenko
The space above the earth
is not separate
from the space beneath its surface
It was not separate
before the earth was born
it is not separate now
though I will no doubt take One breath
and attempt to divide it into two
Nor will it be separate
once this land is no more
and God will perhaps Sighhhh
and release me in Her breath
This land is my land
because I belong to it
It does not belong to me
It was its own
long before I became mine
It will be ours
long after we arrive and depart as spirit
the Land of the Living
All land is for the living
All life cannot be parceled off
will not be bought or sold leased bordered
cut down cut up or used up
like so many logs of experience
inch by inch minute by minute
while we sing songs of innoccence or indifference
around somebody else's campfire
One must give oneself outright
One must give oneself fully as in birth
or in surrender the only good act of war
You my sweet land have taught me this
You my sweet land have taught me
that possession is for those who would be possessed
That owning without sharing without connection
can only choke on its own dust
can only drag under the weight of its own feet
If one is to breathe freely
one must be willing to live on air
One must be willing to give and to receive life
as a labor of love
To stand on the sky as it passes through angels
To stand in the wind as it passes,..
not as water breaking or rushing by
but in the stillness of change
Like the great oak circling the storm
or the finely tuned rainbowed chords of Time--
for Time runs countless rings around us all
There is no turning your back on The Circle
though I have tried
The Great Circle of Life
is the great leveler of all lands and peoples
Once I turned my back on you my land
and in kind you yourself became less kind less friendly
No longer did the arms of your branches reach out
to embrace my vision Nor their tender leaves
wave sweetly to me as once they had
Instead your ground grew hard and cold
halting me in my own tracks
The same earth whose underground trails and root-systems
whose arteries less traveled
burned with the flickering flames of a moment's neglect
until at last we snuffed out their glowing embers
which in turn only turned to char and ash
What grows above ground and reaches for Heaven
is not separate
from that which lies hidden beneath the surface
beyond the complexion of our own Collective Mind
I who had turned my back on you
had turned my back on myself
I who had withheld myself from you
had withheld something valuable from myself
Had I until now looked only with my eyes?
Had I not seen or felt with my being
the most important invisible of life?
That which may only be made visible
through the eyes of the heart
At the core of Any and Every...is there not a living pulse?
At the earth's core is there not a beating heart?
Do we not share the same air?
Do we not fall heir to the same DNA
as the moon and the stars?
This land is my land
because we delight in one another
It is my love It is my lover It is my family
It beckons me with its resonant hills
and the deep contours of its mind
It intoxicates me with the width and breadth of its scent
It waits for me faithfully in both light and in shadow
in faith and uncertainty. through all the seasons of the soul
It waits for me in harmony and trembles at my approach
It rises up to meet me as I come to greet it
She is coming she is coming she is coming she's coming!
my land whispers with the joy from which springs all Creation
from leaf to leaf wing to wing ear to ear
So happy to see you it sings and chants lovingly
gladdened by the return of my own loving presence
All life is reciprocal
Do we not serve ourselves best by serving others?
You my sweet land have taught me this
I understand now and nod to you in continuum
while your trees sway and bough
evermore deeply to me
This land is my land
It is my home it is my birthright
It restoreth my soul
Yea though I walk through the valley
you and I pass through one another
dust to dust breath to breath
You and I pass through one another
like clouds or small fishes or the Great Mother
even as She passes through us
One day I will pass too
as those who have passed before me
and recede into my memory
as the eye its globe
and the land its horizon
One day I shall become part of the moving landscape
as you my loved ones are a moving part of me
The space without me is not separate
from the space within you
That which divides us is merely illusion
There is no separation.
Standing on the sky
owning everything
and nothing but this moment
you must please tell me
(and this sweet land
that is as much yours as it is mine)
when we will meet again
Tell us something about the natural world that you love and don’t wish to lose. What are your thoughts on the kind of world we are leaving for the next generation?
When I think of Nature, I think of Mother Nature and home. I think of the Universe, the breath of sky within and without, and the circle of the planet's embrace in which we are held. I think of our natural world as that family circle.. What i don't wish any of us to lose is the cycle of birth and rebirth, the river's flow, the gentle unfolding of leaf and foliage The gentle unfolding of all things, for everything tells a story. My feet on the ground, my roots in the sky. I love trees, in particular. The branches that reach upward, their root systems that allow for not only nourishment but communication, that allow trees to send messages to one another. The very fact that trees talk to one another and actually have empathy puts some of us to shame. Sighhhh Nature. The force of nature—that Invisible force made visible in mountains, sea, trees, reproduction, growth. So familiar to us and yet becoming less familiar with each passing year due to the force of man's nature, his propensity for neglect. Global warming, the destruction of forests, the extinction of wildlife threaten our very existence. If is crucial, therefore, that we become more aware, more cognizant of what is happening to the vulnerable world around us, as well as our role in it, otherwise we are destined to leave to future generations...a legacy of ill-health, a landscape of drought and destruction. But, Life is all about positive energy; energy never dies and ''hope springs eternal.'' Out of subterranean darkness, young plants continue to shoot into the light and find their way back in the dark. And, with this kind of awakening, we pray that we, as human beings, will follow their example.
The earth was entrusted to us. We are its caretakers. We must protect and conserve the earth's resources, our resources; It is our responsibility to nurture it, as it nurtures us; to raise awareness and support
that consciousness no differently than we would water and raise a plant or any living be-ing. Those who struggle to create, survive in the more meaningful way and are thus re-created. Whatever energy we can put forth with the breath of good intention can never be lost. Human be-ings are connected to one another by invisible healing threads of light—-light-waves and vibrations which bind us together and weave the fabric and pattern of our lives. Words, sound and images that impart meaning and spark connection are stronger than steel and have the ability to lend understanding, to inspire to move us to spring to action. And this is the kind of action that is desperately needed. The kind that inspires not only with words, but by our example. We are Living Poems. Living Art. We must constantly remind ourselves that each of us can make a difference. That no positive action is too insignificant. As the world turns, we must, in turn, do good turns for one another and our planet.
A nominee for the Pushcart Prize, The Best of the Net, and a former San Francisco Poetry Slam Champion, Antonia Alexandra Klimenko is widely published. Her work has appeared in (among others) Jazz and Literature, XXI Century World Literature (which she represents France) and Maintenant : Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art archived at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. She is the Poet in Residence. for SpokenWord Paris. Her selected poems On the Way to Invisible was recently published by The Opiate Books and is now available.
The Creative Process is created with kind support from the Jan Michalski Foundation.
