Gaia’s Final Plea

Posted on May 19, 2025 by The Living Hand Staff

When we were first born,

We worshipped the ground Gaia walked on.

In return, she sheltered us from the cold,

Holding us tight to her core.

We were the youngest of three:

The sky, Ouranos, and the sea, Pontus, were first,

But we were Mother’s favorite,

And for that, she spoiled us rotten.

I remember when we decided to kill Gaia,

We took the blade to her breast

And prayed that Chaos turn a blind eye to our sins.

We left her there, with what remained of our guilt,

Bleeding and alone.

But don’t you see it?

The green-turned tar turned billowing smoked sky?

The forest fires raging in mid-July?

Tears spilling from mountain peaks?

Don’t you hear it?

The brutal winds biting buildings?

The wet waves extending their greedy claws?

Gaia screaming, betrayed by one of her children?

Of course, we do not only kill Mother,

We kill our siblings.

Melting ice under Pontus, strangling Ouranos with toxic air,

But it’s okay.

We tell ourselves they are replaceable,

We have found a new mother with kinder eyes and a bigger heart.

We will fly,

Fly away into her suffocating arms.

And now, now that Gaia is dead,

We smoke cigarettes over her lifeless body.

We take a drag from factory smokestacks and an axe to her corpse.

We relax into our old, hateful habits until our lungs collapse.

But wait-

I can still hear Gaia.

She is still alive, sputtering something unintelligible,

But I think I can just make out her dying breath;

She is begging us to turn off the heat.