Mother & Son

Original Prose

Written June 2012

Nature and us. At first glance we seem closely entwined, since we are children of Mother Nature after all. But if we look deeper, buried yet blatant things begin to emerge.

Nature creates. She styles, nourishes, smiles down on her valleys and gurgling streams reflecting the sun’s gleaming rays. She observes her handiwork, laughing snowflakes onto her mountains and hiding the secret treasures that are her rainforests underneath green canopies.

Mother Nature is also cruel. She forces her children to learn. Pushes the bird of its comfortable nest, gives it no option but to fly. She makes the lizard live in a world where he is always vulnerable, so that he is forced to flare his frills. She destroys, but only so that it benefits another. Devastating fires let the bushes bloom. Stranded baby turtles mean life for the eagle and its hatchlings. But Mother’s one mistake of a son, Man, fails to see. He is blind to his violence and greed, blaring his arrogance and stupidity. He needs to have the whitest paper at the office, or else someone might pick on him! He needs the newest of suits, so that (God forbid) no one thinks he’s poor. He can’t deny his cravings for a burger, forgetting that the seeds were grown in pain and slavery in some obscure land. He needs his cars, his chemicals, his ample ‘living space’. Apartments rising up like trees, just colder and greyer. Cars scuttling around like ants, just deadlier. Guns faster than hummingbirds. Bombs stronger than earthquakes.

But someday he’ll sit alone, cold and hungry, and he’ll know. He’ll know when he looks around himself, and can’t even hear the reassuring song of a bird. At that moment, even a crow’s shriek would be welcome. He will know when the trees are gone and he cannot breathe. He’ll know when the sun is clogged by smoke and he can’t see, when the water is black and he can’t drink. He will know when his mother abandons him.

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