I have been reading Matthew Fox’s brilliant and courageous book called The Hidden Spirituality of Men and discovered this poem. It is written by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, author of Women Who Run with the Wolves.
This poem is very fascinating to me since I have not thought about the Earth embodying a Sacred Masculine aspect to it, in addition to the Sacred or Divine Feminine. Great food for thought here.
There is a two-million year old man
No one knows.
They cut into his rivers
Peeled wide pieces of hide
From his legs
Left scorch marks
On his buttocks.
He did not cry out.
No matter what they did, he held firm.
Now he raises his stabbed hands
and whispers that we can heal him yet.
We begin the bandages,
The rolls of gauze,
The unguents, the gut,
The needle, the grafts.
We slowly, carefully turn his body
And under him,
His lifelong lover, the old woman,
Is perfect and unmarked
He has laid upon
His two-million year old woman
All this time, protecting her
With his old back, his old scarred back.
And the soil beneath her
Is black with her tears.