"Good morning, Mom!
You look so tired...
I'm sorry I can't visit You more often,
but i promise i'll try!
There's so much more life in You,
though you may look a little sicker than yesterday,
but what do i know?
This might just be one of Your healing phases.
i love You, Mom.
Get some rest. You'll need it.
Things'll be better tomorrow."

I'm worried about our Mother.
Her children have raped Her so brutally,
and Father has had no choice
but to stand back in horror and watch helplessly,
all the while, the same children have brutalized him Him,
cutting down His trees, digging holes through His mountains,
burying land mines in His skin,
dropping weapons of mass destruction onto Him.

Father has had some support,
but Mother has gotten, it seems, continuously harsh treatment
from Her own children for ?ons.

I remember when Her waters were as crystalline as a face-to-face
view with the dew on Father's morning foliage.
She was like a jewel that extended beyond the edge of the sky
and glittered in shimmering splashes of gold, emerald, turquoise,
and ruby and painted ceiling with here richly hued, there lazy-shaded
colors of all of them.
Yes, i remember those days.
I was there.
I was there when humans were still new to Mother and Father,
when the loudest noise was still one of Mom's waves crashing
majestically onto a rocky shore, when the fish still swam without risk
of falling captive to the nets planted by any one of Mother's
children,
when Mother still shone in the sun, gleaming, teeming with life, abounding
with color beyond even the youngest child's conception.
I was there.
I was there in the majestic North Atlantic, an adventurous Viking,
giving my salutations to Father, always giving my gratitude to Mother.
I sailed Her crystal-sapphire seas under the leadership of Ragnar
Lodbrok, and no one appreciated my time of service with Mother as much
as i did.
I was there.
I was there trading between Egypt and Colombia.
My name was known the world over and my ship was easily the most fragrant...
I was there.
I was there for the attack of Old Ironsides. You should've seen how
fast i was flapping my tail, swimming past that ship as fast as i
could.
I was there,
a forest watching Mother carve the coastline out of Norway, finishing
off the seismic recipe with a dash of mint, a sprinkle of pepper, and
soothed with parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.
It really was an honor to be there in the path of her breath, inhaling
cool winds, exhaling salty, sentient ones, all in her watery glory.
It was amazing.
I was there to see it for myself.
But now i see it fade.
I knew Her days of happiness,
but those days have been siezed.
I have seen so many of the fish grabbed, gutted, gored,
given out to hungry humans, without a foreseeable end.
I've stared down the throats of unlucky fish, new mouths carved,
preserved on top of pools of ice in markets, ready for the masses.
I've heard the wretched weeping of dolphins, screaming out for mercy,
begging to be spared from being torn away from Mother, "LET US GO!",
but man can't listen, as he's left behind the language he once spoke
directly to his Mom and Dad. Oh, how he has forgotten how to listen to
the sobbing of his kindred whales, attacked for blubber, meat, and bone,
hung up to dry like decorations in a baby's room.
The coral reefs are dying, and they're doing it with quite alarming
speed. There's now a gaping perforation knocked through Mother's
ceiling, bleeding scars in Father's skin, and neither of our Parents
can just be expected to sit by and die, subjected to the "mercy" of
their bastard children. We can only hope She doesn't punish us too
harshly, though She might as well, for we've deserved a whipping,
violent and blinding, far too long.
Father just might not survive, but Mother will come out on top
and that's a guarantee.

Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's comin' 'round to put back the way it ought to be.

Mom will have her rain of glory.
She and Her extensive waters, blue and green, will have their way.
The oceanic lives inside her will will be liberated, keeping up their story
and we all may rest assured that this will truly be a Happy Mother's Day...

04/07/2005

Author's Note: I wrote this for our dearly beloved Mother Ocean. The line: Mom's gonna fix it all soon. Mom's comin' 'round to put back the way it ought to be. is, of course, from Tool's "?nema", track #13 off of "?nima". The pun on "rain of glory"/"reign of glory" is intentional, so please kindly don't try to correct me on that "mistake". Hope you all enjoy.

Posted on 04/08/2005
Copyright © 2024 Kourosh Taheri-Golvarzi