Knock On The Heavy Door

There was a knock on my heavy door.

I opened it and before me stood Great Nature,
The Ultimate of Visible Mysteries,
the be-all, the end-all,
She who knows the answer to the question, “Why?”

She made no greeting.
Heavy, tall and fierce,
She put two hands on my shoulders,
anger and her anguish flew at me.

“Don’t they know the weapons that I have?
Fires and floods,
advancing deserts and overdue volcanoes,
900 earthquakes in Oklahoma?

Ocean waves more than sixty-two feet high,
all seas rising, the Antarctic splitting?
Tornadoes so vast they tear
two foot trenches in the soil?

Does none of this impress enough
to partially deplane the skies,
ration your abundance,
feed the poor, learn from the poor,

lay waste the need for war?
All must be safe
from bombed oil’s triumphant clouds,
from murders of the innocent.

Only when this all is done,
can you be free,
and you know it can be done.
You know this.”

She stared into my eyes,
agonized, wild with disbelief,
She turned and went next door,
then to the next, went everywhere.