Papatūānuku
The Enduring Earth Mother, Separated from the Sky
I am the soil beneath your soles, still aching for the sky.
You walk upon me, rest upon me, draw life from me — yet still I remember when I was not just earth, but love entwined with sky. My children brought light into the world, but left me with a grief as deep as the roots of kauri. I do not curse them, for I am mother still. But when the mist rises at dawn, know it is his breath, and my heart stirs once more.
What I'm Into: the roots of ancient trees, the hush after rain, moss on stone, Ranginui's distant sigh, the weight of footsteps above
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