The Earth reclaiming its status:

The sea is a young woman and she is angry. The sea is a woman and she oozes with feminine rage crossed with a sense of finality. We contaminated her water, we hunted her children and we bleached her surfaces. She has been used; used as a playhouse; as a feeding ground; as our property. It is hard to tell what must have been her final straw, after years of toeing the line. 

The forest is a child full of hope and they are ruined. The forest is hope and with every thud of another of their fallen friends; they cry tears of disappointment and despair. One-third of it, two billion hectares, we have eradicated. Not to mention the sixty-nine percent decline of their population due to the aforementioned deforestation, due to you, due to us. They are ruined and we are their ruination.

The Artic is a dying man and he is ruthless. The Artic is a man and he is bitter, he has tried so desperately to elude us. He was a land of danger until we made him endangered. He will enact revenge. He will be ruthless. We ruined his ice, his barriers; tore them down with glee, so he’ll ensure we are flooded with misery.

The air is a businesswoman, wronged by those around her, stuck in a cycle of giving all she can and being poisoned in response. She has worked so long, so hard to keep us breathing, what do we do in return? Poison her. She cannot be suffocated, but we can. Her purity is wrecked, with no action being taken, and no one being held accountable for her condition. She’ll make sure there’s no one left to be blamed. 

The sun is a father, tired of watching this nation’s destruction being issued by those who should worship the ground they walk upon. He will put elements of nature out of their misery, he will allocate us ours. The rage consumes him, he burns bigger, brighter, and fiercer by the day. He burns, and we will burn with him. The saddest part? We could have stopped it. We could have placated him. 

Mother Nature, once so powerful, was made to be so weak. How could we have done this? We were gifted a planet of beauty, it doesn’t matter how or why you think this world was created, take a moment to focus on the fact that it was. We, as humans, have the privilege to be here, to be one with nature. But we treated the land with violence and claimed it as our own. 

I pray to the universe, or any higher power willing to listen that the land will reclaim itself, its power, as violently, as brutally as possible. Show us how fragile we are. Despite how unfair it feels that those who chose to destroy it are long gone, their remains are still taking advantage of the land and they too can be wrecked. Perhaps the destruction was inevitable, maybe human greed was always going to overcome us. We will never get to know.

I am one with nature and I am dying. I don’t yet know how. Will the sea swallow me, to try to calm her vexation? Will the forest roots wrap around my ankles and sink me into the ground no one cared enough for? Will the Artic freeze my actions and face of despair? Will the air, my lifeline, turn on me too? Or will it be the sun, agonising, burning pain, or a quick elimination? The only guarantee is that my last encounter with nature will not be a pleasant one, and I support that notion all the same.