The Earth On Which She'D Walked

She was made of the Earth on which she walked, built by the Love that, from her, poured, brought to life by the light she shone, imbued with the innocence that, in all, she saw. She sang her heart to every sunbeam, danced her joy for all the Ocean, painted life upon the Cosmos, wore the wisdom of each mountain.  She communicated with the trees, felt the warmth from distant stars, cradled the souls of the beings she'd meet, did all that she could to inspire good hearts.  She tended the fires of every sunset, wandered in cloudscapes all over the planet, her shadow rejoiced in the full moonlight, her spirit brushed lifetimes it couldn't forget. She swam in the night and flowed with the seasons, played among air currents, and bathed in the heavens.. But she saw that not all was right in the world, and her gentle heart hurt to perceive so much wrong. She ached with the suffering people inflicted, and never quite felt she could truly belong.. She crumbled under the waste of greed, mourned the impediment of impatience, was torn apart by lies and hatred, and shattered by all the needless violence.. She bled the oil pulled from the ground, grieved over prejudice and separation,  wept the blood of billions enslaved, and cried for mercy, in desperation. Every war was a cardiac arrest. Every tree cut down, asphyxiation. Every polluted river, sepsis. Every species wiped out was an amputation. She lost the innocence she no longer saw, and dimmed was the light she struggled to shine. She stemmed the Love that barely poured and sank back to the Earth on which she'd walked.