A Prayer for Our Wild Nature

This was an impromptu reading of a poem I had just written.

This was literally the second time reading it after I wrote it. It felt like someone else was writing it it, like I was just the channel, the instrument. So when I read it, it was like reading something new to me too. If that makes any sense.

Poems often “come” to me like that, and when they do, I believe they turn into my best work (if I tend to them…)

Here is the pure, unedited poem, as it was given to me:

A Prayer for Our Wild Nature

This field has been used for years

growing fruit and vegetables

year after year

each time it is plowed over

worms are sacrificed

birds gorge on upturned and

disoriented bugs

another crop is planted

sown

over and over

a never ending routine

for the greater good

your good

my good

our good

there is no doubt

those berries are sweet and tasty

but now look at her

that field of fertile soil left to flower

wildly on her own

no plowing

no stomping the ground of her

circumference in heavy

leaden boots

no fresh tire tracks on her back

no loud music and yelling

while her bounty is

pulled

plucked

sorted and hauled away

the less thans left

to degrade

upon her flesh in the hope they will enrich

the next generation

No.

Now she is like us

growing wild and unruly

un-manicured and verdant

growing what she wants to grow

feeding the wildlife generously and

without recrimination

I don’t think she yearns

for the old days

for what was

No.

I hear her purring

in the afternoon sun

I hear her calling to the spot fawns

the wildflowers

the hummingbirds

she is juicy now

ripe with possibility

she is wild again

like she once was.

– jessica johnson 2020

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