We the People Sing

For every woman being raped.

For every trans made illegal.

For every Native forced out of their home.

For every black person called “lesser.”

As I sit in the grass a sense of magic overcomes me. The mother of all, Gaea, is here.

I can’t see her, but I feel her presence everywhere. She is crying, sobbing, mourning her lost children, the trees, the birds, the bears, the flowers.