The Blessing of Gaia

Have you ever stopped and watched the motes spiral in the wind? Lazily and merrily drifting in the golden pools that pour upon the grassy meadows.

I’ve come to this place a million times before, but I am always flabbergasted by its beauty. I nestle myself further into the knoll, the jade blades envelope my body, but even more so my soul.

The trees sway in the breeze above, their arms waving at me; they whisper to me, calling my name and welcoming me home. The stream trickles over its pebbled path, amalgamating at the watering hole below. The air, cool and damp, kisses my flesh as butterflies tickle my feet. I cannot help but giggle, not from their soft little legs, but for the matter that I am the Queen. I am in my dominion. I am in my realm.

I wear a crown of ivy and moss upon my speckled temple. My gown of lace and cotton drapes over me like mist upon the mountains. My eyes are of storms and seas, shuttered behind fiery manes of proud beasts. My flesh is the color of ice and snow, my cheeks are blooming peaches, and my hair is, but a thousand straws woven into rose gold waves. I am one, but I am everything.

The smell of fresh soil and a hundred wildflowers fills my lungs as I stare at the canopy above. The lush, juvenile leaves dance in the sunlight creating a shroud of green light. It cloaks the hollow with a tenderness that only a mother would her babe. There is a stillness, a tranquility as it were, although I find it getting harder to breathe. I should, I think, be afraid, but I find that I am not.

I had heard rumors on the wings of swallows that unwelcomed visitors had stepped into the thickets. Their frames masked by rags and their feet wrapped in burly leather sheathes; they stepped from iron giants with hollow bodies. Their eyes ebon and alien. The birds fluttered, dauntingly, to the skies and in hoards came to share their gossip with twittering beaks.

“Monsters…” they said. “Giants,” they cried.

My eyes traced their little brunette feathers and fuzz as they bolted from twig to branch. They nipped nervously at their wings and fluffed their brow.

“You must slow, or I cannot understand you, little friends. What has you worried? Who are these monsters?” I asked. I brought a finger towards the sky for one to take a perch, to rest their weary limbs. I could feel her heart pounding in the little bone cage as her little claws wrapped around the point of my digit.

“Mother, mother! There are giants. They have touched our hallow ground! You must stop them, you must!” She squeaked. I stroked at her spine, cooing. I tried to lull her, spinning sounds of comfort and love to soothe her trembling heart.

“Everyone is welcome in our home, little love.” I whispered, pursing my lips into a pout. “I know change can be frightening, but change is sometimes necessary. Remember, the trees…” The little bird bowed her head, shamefully. Her beady eyes still leery and bitter. “Life is but a never-ending performance, my children.” I wetted my lips and closed my eyes, listening to humming drums of insects in the bark.

“It’s full of acts that we all must play a part in. Act one, is birth, youth, life without any fear or repercussion. We only learn and play, muddling through our days as we yearn to be older. Act two is adulthood, we are no longer the eager sapling, but the proud and mighty oak. Clever and loving, reaching out our nimble and strong arms around our fledglings. Act three, brings a warmth, but also a sadness to the brisk and bitter winds. This is where we are wise, doting, and knowledgeable of the inevitable. Act four is our finale, our triumph; this is where we are wisest. We know it is time for our slumber, we meet it with fear and glee for, as do the trees, we know we will be reborn. It is not the end for eternity, but just another beginning.”

The little bird fluttered away from my hand, chasing the other swallow’s tail. They chirped in affirmation and praise. “So wise, mistress. So wise. We will not fear the monsters. We will welcome them!” and with that they were gone. Their wings carrying them along the fragrant currents as they sailed beyond the clouds.

I meandered towards the trunk of a pear tree which bosom was large and bountiful. Looking up at the boughs above, I saw an image of a burning bush, blazing in emerald flames. I traced its bark with the tips of my fingernails and only felt its dread. From the skies to the earth, there was an unsettling. Everything was at unease. I cocked my head to the side and listened. The monsters were the talk of the wood. I plucked a pear from the tree and pressed it again my lips, smelling the flesh before I tasted. At the core of my being, I must admit, I too felt at unrest.

Perhaps, I should see for myself… The delectable fruit spilled upon my chin as I finished my final bites. I gave the tree my deepest gratitude and praise: “You will bless all of whomever eats your gifts,” and I took my leave.

I followed the winding path through the hollow. The wind danced along my legs and tugged playfully at my curls, but its mischievous game came to a sudden, jerking halt. In its once jovial place was now a pungent, horrid smell that pressed firmly to my nose, almost pushing me back. The crystal-clear sky was now curtained with a thick, gravy which made my eyes water. I struggled to see, stumbling, and fell to dormant roots. The dirt dug deep into my knees; unlike the rich soil I was accustomed. I rubbed my eyes, blinking and tried to find my bearings. The lower wood was now but a graveyard, distant from the beautiful and noble brush that once stood.

I tapped my toes against the gravel, submerging deeper into the lifeless, sepia colored Hell. My arms outstretched swiping through the air, feeling for the trees as I passed; I used them to guide my way, listening to the echoes of their cries. With every step forward came another horrendous sight, fallen trees, trunks with large gashes, barren stumps, drying sap, flattened and tattered beds. Tears flooded down my cheeks, painting ridges upon my skin. I choked upon my breath, my soul writhing within my center, twisting and falling into pits of despair.

What could do such a thing? My mind wandered and my heart raced. Suddenly, I felt a weight on the tip of my foot. Perhaps, a stone? I thought. I squinched my eyes, deciphering the small object below me. I cupped my hand over my mouth, unable to fight the sharp inhale.

“Oh, my sweet, little love!” I dropped to my knees and held my tiny friend inside my palms. I brushed pebbles and muck from her feathers, her color was now dull and dim on her stiff body. Her beak bent, her feathers torn, and all about her a shadow. “I am so sorry, dear one,” I managed to whisper through broken gasps and wails. “This is not the slumber you deserved. It isn’t right. Please forgive me,” I pleaded. I looked around through blurry eyes. Nothing was living. Nothing was left. I held her close, digging into the soil and placed her in the hole. I carefully peppered a few grains and then brushed the rest of the pile into the grave. I covered her with a few rocks and twigs, said my goodbye and continued into the smog.

My fear and sadness now smoldered. A dark, raging force boiled inside and my skin flushed. The pain of the woods and the pain of the creatures coursed through my blood. Magma filled my soul; venom filled my lips and hatred seethed from every pore. I tried to calm myself, but to no avail. Change is sometimes necessary, but this is not necessary. This is murder.

In the distance, I heard them. The ferocious roars of their metallic beasts, the hissing jaws that thrashed and cut, the vipers that spewed toxic fumes, and the ever so haunting laughter of the giants. I swallowed hard and clenched my fists. In my deepest thoughts, I envisioned a twisting, reeling funnel touching down to the ground, washing, and wiping away the slate, dismal necropolis that now stood before me. I saw them wriggling and pleading for the mercy of which they showed to none. I pictured their demise, cruel and unforgiving, their fate within my grasp.

I staggered to their encampment, holding a hand to the front of the thunderous yellow beast. It moved slow, but it and the giants seemed to pay me no mind. I waved both arms, trying to catch my breath within the ever-thickening filth that tainted the once pure air. “Cease this! Cease this, at once!” I coughed, but just as before- the giants didn’t budge; they looked right through me. Their eyes were glossed over, their heads in weird domes, and their ears plugged. “You’re killing my friends. Do you not feel it? Can you not see?”

The monsters continued to rove.

They pummeled into the trees, ripping, and pushing them over as if they were not even there. They slashed through, gutting into thicket that they had already destroyed. My stomach ached and burned with the very fires of Hell, I couldn’t help but grasp it and tumble to the ground. “What are you doing to us?” I cried. My body contorted and I heard a noise I had never heard before, a strange and otherworldly buzzing that shrieked from inside my mind. “You…must…stop,” I begged.

They still saw no one. They only cared for their bloodlust, their conquest.

“Destruction? Is that all you know? I pity you.” My eyes were waterfalls, feeding the rivers that coursed down my cheeks and I could feel my soul burning softer. I was drifting from the light, drifting into endless winter.

“I cannot stop you, giants. I can only bless you, and your blessing will be your curse. I will give you the land that you so badly wish to possess, but the land will be soaked in blood. The lives you stole will forever be on your hands, no matter how you wash them in the rivers and streams. You will be tainted. If you ever find the goodness in your souls to change what is necessary, then perhaps you will be free. I will leave you with the land and all the dangers that await you and lastly, I will leave you the poisons and afflictions that squeeze your breath as you have mine.”

With remorseful yet victorious eyes, I smiled and said farewell. I made my final trek back to home, which is where I rest now.

I bring my fingers to my core where crimson jewels and petals twinkle and drip. My breath has slowed, and it is ever so hard to breathe. I open my eyes to view the canopy once more above my broken, haloed crown and the trees weep.

“It’s okay, my darlings. It is not the end for eternity…”

I bask in the warm, beautiful paradise painted in green light, painted for my friends and me and painted for you… It is time for my slumber, and I pray that we meet again and when we do meet again, I hope we can live in peace. For, everyone is welcome in my home…

“This is just another beginning.”