To Be Divine is Not Civilized (poetry)

Modern neo-pagan art depicting a dark-skinned water goddess. Wikimedia.

The society we raise our children in and grow old in will again be divine.

The air is fresh, the water clean, forest whole, trees proud, sounds of nature fill my ears. Dear ones are near, alive and passed. Life’s cares met from cradle to grave.

Our bodies are toned and healthy for our age. We are not visited by new disease that did not exist 240 years ago. Our food is pure, healthy, natural, wild crafted, local. Teeth, back and mind, are strong until old age.

Every child knows the name, place, season and use of each plant. When a bee stings, reach for the plantain, chew and press, the sting is gone.

The lunar, solar and human cycles go round and round. The great mysteries of where we came from and where we go are cherished.

Love is true, lasting, strong, fulfilling, committed, at peace, content, home.

Fecundity of culture, 10,000 cultures tend the wild. Different languages, customs, proud, safe, free. No one is beholden to another, exchanges are equal, free from exploitation.

Other species are held in the highest honor. Biodiversity in extreme, land, space, food, home. All animals are wild, free without the yoke of domestication.

Respect for one another. Strength in community knowing one’s survival depends on the other. All equal, few possessions, simple natural dwellings and lives.

I hear the eagle cry, it is a good day.

I feel the sun on my face, it is a good day

I hear the stream rush, it is a good day.

I hear children laughing, it is a good day.

Ho Hey!

Chuck Burr