Tears of the Earth

It’s a new morning—the long hand of the analog clock positions itself at twelve and the shorthand at six.  I am awake and anxiously take my seat in nature’s audience hall overlooking the sleepless and restless ocean, waiting for nature’s orchestra to begin its morning performance. I wait, I wait. The coconut trees are silent. No sounds from the birds, not even warming up their voices—a tiny hummingbird dances from flower to flower each morning, but no sign of her. Only the annoying ocean waves pounding the foot of the coastal stage, seemingly demanding the start of the performance. 

What’s happening?  Why the delay?

Expansive grey rain clouds have blanketed the earth, preventing even the sun’s rays from offering a good morning kiss to the ground. Spreading their wings as far as the eye can see, the morning looks sad. She begins to cry tears of gentle rain, increasing in crescendo. Why the sadness?  Why the tears?  Is it news of the five persons murdered and seventeen injured in the LGBTQ club in Colorado Springs? Is it the merciless strike by Russian forces on the maternity ward in Ukraine this morning or the killing of seven by a gunman in a Virginia Walmart, the news of this morning? Is it the million-dollar fine to Glencoe, the giant mining firm, for its years of corruption deals with unscrupulous governments? Is it the ongoing destruction of the environment by the co-creators of this earth due to the remnants of Adam and Eve’s self-centeredness?  This morning, the earth exhibits her sadness, accompanied by tears.  The birds and the trees join in the melancholic protest. 

Then, the wind picks up to cheer up and console the coconut trees. The trees respond in affirmation by gently swaying their branches in appreciation of the wind. They swing in many directions, happy to be awakened by the wind. But, the tears of the clouds persist. The sadness of the earth prevails as the eight billion dominant residents of this earth continue to destroy their homes and themselves. 

As the wind picks up in speed and the coconut trees joyfully sway, I see a sign of hope in this action. “All is not lost” is the consoling and comforting gesture of the wind. Then, darting through the gentle raindrops, the tiny hummingbird searches hastily for flowering nectar. The scene is no longer looking downright gloomy. The rain and the wind are now playing with each other, and the blanketing clouds slowly dissipate, permitting tiny bursts of sun rays to kiss the earth.