archives, poetry

Beloved Mother Earth Burning. {poetry}


A few weekends ago, I dropped into a deep well of pain and grief, experiencing connection to the Earth Mother, waking in distress from visceral dreaming… of the fire element, of seeing through animals’ eyes, of desperate and futile fleeing, and through the land itself, fear and loss.

Yes, we must trust in Her immense rebirthing, Her flushing out what needs to go, but She also grieves. And I grieve with Her and Her creatures departing to other realms.

My words fall short, but knowing the deepest sense of this body as a vessel, a conduit in offering, to carry and pour out Her grief, my tears become Her rivers, my heart heavy, yet light in surrender, in offering, in love.


Beloved Mother burning,
Hear me sing
My prayer, it sails
on the cockatoo’s wing

Lay my crown upon
your charcoaled floor
my love in offering,
ancestral lore

For what we reap
we somehow sow;
Our country’s pain
ignited boughs

and blossoms charred
Her palette, dim
Her creatures
perish, in bitterness grim

Take this shallow breath
of grief and mourning
as angel birds
transmute to soaring,
darling spirits
that know no bounds
in Eden skies,
forever found

Take these tears to flood
your grievous drought
Take this vessel to purge
and scream and shout!

I offer you
my wailing cries
this single voice,
to harmonize

your beating heart
inside my chest,
a sacred drum
of rain-dance blessed

I beg you
all that walk these plains,
hold strong intent
for soaking rains

to quench
beloved Mama’s thirst
repaint the dream-time
wildflower bursts

Reviving native,
color healing
This fate shall not
cremate our feeling

Ngurra Madha Madha —
Red earth, dulled
Her bouncing kangaroos
now culled

I’m dreaming
of their terror,
running scared
to fields of fairer
life and luscious green,
my mind, it shatters
for this, unseen

elusive home,
too slow to slither
on scaled bellies,
all havens wither,

ablaze in fury,
their Mother’s trust —
A deeper meaning
through all this rust

Her sullied gums,
Koala bears,
at vicious speeds
a furnace tears

apart our valleys,
our golden earth
Resilient hearts
we must find worth

in kookaburras sent
to Father’s place
Please laugh again
in sacred space.

Splay your feathers wide
to fan Her face,
this precious Earth
She needs our grace

Take these knees, that buckle
in pain, all beings,
in prayer to the Most High
the Souls of All-Seeing

May we galvanize,
May we find the common thread
May we transmute all suffering,
all barren river beds,

through the hum of Creation,
rushing through our veins
These are our rivers,
Our sparkling remains

To kin-nect and honor,
All deep loss,
Take our spirit, Dear Mother,
as your burning cross.


An ongoing journey with life and health has led Ange Sang back to her true creative therapy, through the written word and the lens of the camera. Ange is a devoted lover of all things nature, a tree-hugger, and has a heart that feels utterly compelled to shoot arrows of word and image, straight from her mystical experience of life to as many receivers as possible. On a unique path of physical illness, Ange began to share her written and visual arts as tools of thanks — a nod to an ever-rising theme of gratitude, in recognition of those around her. Her heart-vision continues to find its solace and drive in the grace of Mama Nature and the aim to recognize and articulate the grapple of the human condition.


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Rebelle Society
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