Earth Forgot Us

with Duane Toops

The practice of making something beautiful can be a counter-weight to turmoil. For me, it has always been a ballast. A compulsion.

As John O’Donohue said, a beautiful thought in the mind can be a way to hold out on the frontlines of great bleakness. Each of us needs to have an internal place of peace that belongs to us alone—a place where the fragments of our lives have a way to unify.

I’m grateful to have such a place for making beauty here at Microseasons.

In all the busyness of making, it’s easy to become isolated and lost in my own stories—my own biased thinking and methods. As a way to expand creativity, friends can be incredibly precious. To quote John again: A friend is a one who awakens your life in order to free the possibilities inside you.

I feel lucky to have found true friendship with so many creators and readers here on Substack. One such friend has lent his presence here today. I have enormous respect for

Duane Toops

as a maker and a curious human being.

Lately, the beautiful astronauts appearing in his work have been catching the eye of my imagination. And Duane was kind enough to ponder with me the idea of a space traveller who longs for home. I sent him a few lines, and he generously created the image that was the inspiration for these two small poems.

Here is the result of our mutual exploration of the question:

What is this yearning for Home? How can we keep seeing the beauty of Home—even in a time of turmoil?

“Another note exchanged in my

personal duet with the planet.

I breathed out,

and Earth breathed in.”

—Ferris Jabr

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Collage by Duane Toops

As I’m about to enter your world,

chaos choreographed in time.

Earth forgot, but I remember still,

as darkness falls and the colors emerge.

Benediction, a hum in my head,

Spaceship Sister, I’m coming home.

Luna Moth on the trail at Cedar Falls

.

Rounding-off sharp edges of time,

rounding them off—to the nearest of ten.

.

God, the face of light in endless blue

Pardon my silence; I am undone by you.

.

Theorem of longing, trust in the chain,

God the face of water, the face of trees.

Theorem of Life, how simple, how strange.

.

Naked, I float in your vacant sea,

yearning for warmth from first breath to now.

.

Xenon lights flicker, freeze, grow dim.

I imagine how it feels to walk in your skin.

.

Master of Silence, our map is drawn; it fades.

Zero gravity, coordinates unknown . . .

.

Tell me it’s not too late to be Home.

I will tell you—it’s never too late.

Fungi at Brumley Forest

Dear Ones,

Home is a place we make for each other.

This dwelling is for the explorers, makers, and healers.

For all the songs we know—and those still unsung.

Jordan Lake

For our living planet, this creature called Earth.

Please stay.

I’ll see you in a new microseason,

xo Ann

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My grateful thanks to Duane Toops for his vision and humble willingness to share. This poem was a meditation and a pleasure to write. For those who may not know him, Duane is a total joy to work with and his enthusiasm is contagious!

Please feel free to subscribe to his Stack. There are some nice perks for paid subscribers. Also you can buy him a coffee—or yourself an original collage—by using the links below.

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Thanks for reading Microseasons 🌿

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