Just like anyone does, I’ve been yearning for my childhood. The Lost Gardens of Heligan mother earth a narrative story TEXT Eden Renata Cintron 30 i-D THE SPEAK UP ISSUE
Back when I was still learning about my tides and depths and how tall I could grow. At the very beginning of it all, my father, The Universe (who goes by many names), placed me just close enough to my brother, Sol, who you all call The Sun, to make sure I stayed warm. He placed me near my sister, Luna, who you all call The Moon, so that she could help me control my tides. It took us ages to get everything right, but after a while we figured it out. Then, things started to grow on me. It took me a while to realize that they weren’t just growing on me, the were growing from me; we were connected. Before I knew it, these things were starting to have an effect on me. Sure, they were using parts of me, my water and my fruits. But they were also my children, so it didn’t bother me to give parts of myself to them. I was their nourishment and they were my babies. We lived in harmony. My air was clean and so were my oceans. My grounds were being trampled and eroded, but I was growing and changing and learning to live with the differences. My babies started getting bigger and bigger. People call my babies Dinosaurs, but its been so long since I’ve seen them. I can’t feel their essence on me anymore. After they started dying, other creatures started to take their place. Birds, reptiles, mammals, and eventually even humans. Just like the Dinosaurs, these new inhabitants used me as well. During these times, we were all living in harmony. Everyone would take from me, but they would also give back to me. They planted crops, they returned their dead to my lands and from them, more grew. If they chopped down my trees, they would only take a few and leave me with plenty more to help me breathe. Things were a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t want my new babies to be without all they needed to survive. Before I knew it, times started to change again. More and more humans were growing out of me and out of their mothers and things began to get kind of crowded. People from all parts of me were meeting, but they weren’t getting along. Thousands upon thousands of my babies were dying and there was nothing I could do about it. Humans were killing my babies who had no weapons to defend themselves. My cows and buffalos were being slaughtered. My fish were being gathered by the pound. My babies were killing each other and no one could hear me begging them to stop. I cried and cried. For days, my tears covered my land and even my seas. When no one paid attention to my tears, I started to shudder. Parts of my land cracked and fell into my oceans. Things were changing again; I was changing again. My land split into many pieces, I couldn’t get them all back. I got used to myself being spread apart but I wasn’t dealing with it well. Not only had I split myself, I had also split up my babies. I became cold, extremely cold and it took a long, long while until I warmed up again. But then, I started to get extremely hot. All the changes were starting to take their toll on me, but I had to stay strong for my children. The weaker I became, the stronger my children became. More and more changes, fewer trees for me to breathe, fewer fish in my seas, fewer animals on my lands, more and more humans everywhere. More crying, more cracking. More change. Now things are out of control. There are more humans than I ever thought there could be. There are fewer trees than I could imagine and it feels like I’m suffocating. My sister looks on us from afar, and feels so bad for us that she hides herself. Sometimes, no one can see her. My brother hates what my children have done to me. He lets out his aggressions by making things so hot and unbearable, he doesn’t realize that not only does that hurt my children it also hurts me. I can’t stand the heat. All parts of me are getting warmer and warmer and even when I try, I can’t cool down. My oceans are almost bare. Where there were once crevasses and under water valleys teaming with life, there are now pieces of plastic, a material my human children created. There are pieces of aluminum. There are too many things to deal with and I pray to my father all the time that he will make them all go away. I fear what will happen if he doesn’t answer my prayers. The last time I lost control, I broke myself into pieces. I’ve cried over and over, flooding myself. I’ve screamed and shook, cracking more and more pieces of myself. I’ve whistled tornadoes into existence. I made huge waves that obliterated parts of my land. It doesn’t matter what I do, no one listens and no one helps. They just keep taking me away, piece by piece. My babies, my trees, my land. It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s never as bad as what is done to me. My father told me long ago that if I ever feel like I’ve lost all control, I could always flood everything and start all over. Starting over sounds far easier than trying to gain back my respect and dignity from my children. I am a gracious mother, giving all that I have away for their sake but, as of late, it has gone unappreciated. A flood does sound like it would cool me off. I just worry how I will feel after I’ve made my decision. Will I miss my children? Will things grow on me the way they once did? Will my first babies come back to treat me well like they once did? Will my children thrive through the flood as they have in the past? What I really wonder is, will I survive long enough to see my own wrath or will I wilt away before I ever get the chance to show everyone how righteous and powerful I truly am? i-D THE SPEAK UP ISSUE 31
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