Birdsong and traffic sounds.
Tree branches and power lines.
A park with simple dirt paths
neighboring an oil refinery.
The peace of a quiet lake
disturbed by motors of jet skis
and the secluded wilderness retreat
forced open to tourist attractions.
Glorious colors of sunset ignored
while men bleed the earth red as the sky.
The still nobility of old forests
threatened by a power saw.
The fierce fury of hurricanes
against the towering skyscrapers.

People who write papers in English classes
quote the age-old feud of Man vs. Nature.
But Nature isn't fighting against us,
she's fighting for us,
striving to return us to the true way of living,
when we did not seek to conquer Nature,
but to live in harmony with it.
She is trying to remind us that paper money
and pretty things of glass and gold and steel
are worth exactly nothing in the end.
Nature is telling us that,
having been granted the blesséd gift of life,
we should use it as it was intended:
to live.

And the true way of living
is not about cigarettes and movie stars,
power and sex and depthless glitter,
war and greed and cold, hard cities.
It is about love and trust,
simplicity and respect and formless beauty,
peace and honesty and pure, sweet music.
It is the returning to all of the things
that are true and good and right,
living with each other and the earth
as was intended,
taking and giving equally,
repecting and caring for the existence of the other
as dictated by the common life all beings share.

Nature has kept her part of the bargain;
she still gives, endlessly,
of food from her ground,
water with her rivers,
warmth from her core,
and shelter with her branches.
It is mankind that has forgotten,
mankind whose hearts grew too cold
and so we have sought to cover ourselves
with furs and silks and jewels,
surround ourselves with walls
never intended by Nature,
divide ourselves into frivolous factions
that yell and scream and war at each other,
paying back the earth's gentle upkeep of us
by staining and destroying her body
with blood and asphalt and acid.

Nature, fight against us?
She grieves for us, for what has been lost
and so sends simple reminders
of how it should be.
Birdsong among the traffic sounds -
sweet music that we used to hear.
The returning peace of the lake
after the jet ski's ripples have faded.
The sun still rising and setting in a glory of color
despite the battles waged below it.
Saplings taking root
among the stumps of their elders.
The earth's simple beauty
is something we no longer understand
and more than we could ever aspire to.

We are undeserving of Nature's unconditional devotion.
She is patiently confident
that somewhere beneath
the cold, faceted, silk-and-steel surface,
the true ways are still remembered,
and at the core of her loving care of us
lies the hope that,
despite the damage and neglect we deal out,
despite mankind's spilling of our shared blood,
we will return to her,
repentant and awakened and ready
to live the life we were granted
as it was meant to be lived.

Nature, fight against us?
An empty accusation, pointless.
She wouldn't have to.
We kill each other off
quite expediently on our own.

06/27/2003

Author's Note: Possibly the longest poem I've ever written. I get the feeling I ramble a little, but oh well. This is just a first draft, after all. Just something that's been ruminating around in my brain for awhile, had to get it out.

Posted on 06/29/2003
Copyright © 2025 Amanda J Cobb