Mother Nature’s Call: Hurricane Helene

Kayla Hostetler

During the darkness of the storm, I hold my daughters tight.
I wrap my arms around their bodies, breathing in their soft sacred scent.
I am trying my best to radiate calmness and warmth.
Large branches crash loudly against our home,
a creaking tree collapses in the dark, our only light dances across the sky.
The wind whips, sounding like a train charging at us and we are paralyzed on the tracks.
I kiss the tops of my young daughters’ heads.
I am trying to be a pillar of strength, a soothing strong mother.
Yet, I am helpless in this moment.
Mother Nature is revealing her pent-up rage, she is angry, and I know why.
We have cut off her limbs and scarred her flesh.
We have stained her skin and drained her veins of life.
We have plucked her precious fruit and refused to let her grow.
We have bound and gagged her, ignored her pleas and calls.
We have denied her self-care and then as children often do,
we are shocked when she snaps and shouts.
We have forced her to assert dominance and reveal how mighty a mother can be.
A small voice quietly whispers, “mommy will we be alright?”
I weakly reply, “mommy’s got you.”
I know with a deep ancient animalistic truth, that I would sacrifice myself to save them.
And then as I rock my daughters within my arms fearing for the worst,
there is a sudden silence,
followed by a light tapping of rain against our windows.
I exhale a breath I did not realize I was holding,
and I cling to my daughters as they drift off to sleep.
Mother Nature’s rage is spent.
She drips silent tears down to the earth.
She shifts to calmness and smiles her sunshine upon us, forgiving our mistakes.
Some of us gather and clean the debris of her rage, we acknowledge our mistakes,
and take with us the wisdom and warnings she shared.
Others, as stubborn selfish children do, ignore her sacrifices and words.
Not seeing how our actions are making our mother slowly fade away.