Dear Earth, thank you for skin, soft elastic marvellousness that keeps it all in. Read More

Dear Earth, here’s the secret to everything.

Sometimes I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Sometimes I despair at the size of your wound and the insufficiency of the bandages and balm, dear Earth. I see myself as a speck of dust in an ocean. Sometimes I want to shove other people off your lap and into oxygen-less space, dear Earth, Read More

Dear Earth, thank you for young dogs asleep on feet, and old cats asleep on laps. Read More

Dear Earth, this morning you are subdued, a dull sky and just on the edge of drizzle. My cat is asleep with a smile on his face, warm and circled on my therapy chair. Read More

Dear Earth, today you are wearing bolts of soft drizzle and they suit you, your features are blurred and gentle. The thirsty ground is soaking itself happy. Read More

Dear Earth, this morning your skies are astounding – a vast inverted bowl of delicate stratoculumus, lit up from below by horizontal shards of tangerine. Underneath, hillocks are boats in the ghostly mist. Read More

Dear Earth, how can we possibly enjoy you?

Much of you is poisoned, dear Earth. Your forests are thinning like hair. Many of your glorious species are fading into history. Your cloak of weather is whipping more and more crazily around you. When we take the science into our hearts and see what we have done, when we begin to grieve, how can Read More

Dear Earth, we are born wounded.

Maybe our grandfather was shamed when his pudgy two year old arms reached out, and he learnt to spit hate at his own need. Maybe our great grandmother was shut in the cupboard for hours at a time, and monsters grew in the dark. Further back: oppression breeding oppression, the horror of war, silent sexual Read More

Dear Earth, I am greedy.

When I was a child my mum would make pancakes as a special treat. One for me, one for my little brother. One for me, one for my little brother. I hated the time it took for the pale creamy batter to take on golden patterns, be flipped, and appear on my plate with sharp Read More

Dear Earth, this is the grief.

This is the grief I found like an underwater lake, vast and luminous. This is the grief that wakes me at 4 a.m. to stare at the ceiling, my heart trembling. This is the grief that follows me with a shadow of guilt. It has a bright lining of anger, and every so often it Read More

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