1. <br />Feet on soft earth feel different. <br />My feet on ashphalt starve. <br />A walk along a concrete <br />sidewalk may bring <br />refreshment through the eyes <br />and breezes to kiss skin, <br />but underneath the feet, <br />under the feet <br />it's like a coffin lid. <br /> <br />I have learned <br />that our feet breathe, <br />our feet see, <br />our feet are organs <br />like our hearts and lungs. <br />We have roots like great trees, <br />that go down deep, <br />maybe to the center of the Earth. <br /> <br />2. <br />Sitting at a table indoors, <br />I can't write a hymn to you, Earth. <br />My mind becomes a satellite <br />orbiting disembodied, <br />separated from me <br />by miles of thick darkness, <br />sends back messages <br />showing there's no life out there. <br /> <br />And yet for wilderness, <br />sometimes I just <br />walk out the door — <br />a tree, a park, a strip of grass, <br />and I've tasted <br />Nature's Medicine. <br /> <br />3. <br />Even cities, <br />roads and buildings <br />all rest upon you, Earth. <br /> <br />In mercy you sustain us <br />through the miracle <br />of your fertility. <br />Your soil is a gift <br />hand-crafted for us <br />through the ages. <br /> <br />Children who have squandered <br />your bounty, may we grow up now <br />and finally learn <br />the sacrament of living <br />on your body <br />with respect.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/9-sept-a-hymn-to-the-earth/
