Love Letter to Earth From a Long Forgotten Lover

When monsters show empathy for Earth instead of mortals

Dearest Gaia, Danu, Sif, Ala, Mat Zemyla, Ki, Cybele, Bhumi, Mother Nature,

You have so many beautiful names, I cannot list them all, so I will call you my beloved.

You can share with me any little thing, my one true love. I am the darkest darkness, where our brothers and sisters abide, and the monsters are sent. I hold secrets for eternity. I hold our rebel son close after he tried to overthrow the gods themselves.

Are you suffering a virus, a case of infection of one of your creations, the human mortals? Their foolhardy indoctrination from some belief that teaches them they have “dominion” over you? How laughable their tiny minds are. You aren’t feeling well. And they will feel your immune response, my Titan queen.

I’m here for you. Just you. Just call upon me when it all becomes too much.

Here is what I see, from where I sit staring upon your fading presence in my chambers, my lovely one:

Your breath is coming in sparky, cracked rasps, your fever is too high, and it spreads to the North, melting your glacial resolve that will drown so many in your tears.

I am witnessing a procession of strong storms in the East rapidly eroding your face. I see oily, damaged hair that grows from sickly sea swamp roots and cancer spreading and ravaging you with radioactive lesions.

I smell chemical scents in your waters, your veins and capillaries, your arteries and organs plumped with plastic, benzene, their eternal pharmakeia, and coal ash waste.

I miss the salt, petrichor, and the richest smell of micro life you dab behind your ears.

Who caused this, my love? Who took the jewel of the cosmos and dimmed your shine? Why do you let them continue to spread all over your magnificent body?

Your crown is no longer the sun, it is a thick ring of ugly satellites that squeeze your temples and prick you with the burning fallout.

It is enough. Let it out, my love.

Let the winds brush your trees, cry and don’t stop, everyone will now see your sorrow in overflowing rivers and deltas; allow the built-up rage to vent into deep sea earthquakes and tsunamis.

Hurricanes and typhoons will clean away the debris and garbage, and you will grow new hair in barren places, feel fish swim in your liver, your blood.

Deer and mountain lions leaping across your loins, frogs and wild orchids in your humid places; birds migrating from your newly frosted hairline down to your warm neck in the Atlantic, some hiding for a season in your South American bosom.

Remember the days of Pangea? Before you matured into another phase of life? When it was the small creatures of land, the giants of the seas, the insects, and then those pure beasts, the dinosaurs? You smelled of everything new. I am the dark smell of space, of void, of deep underground caverns, of fires that never go out. You were the opposite of me, and I adored you for it.

The sun will have your back, always. The moon too. Apollo and Selene are constant, unlike some of the others in our unhealthy family.

You won’t withhold your tears from landing on your lap and you will be able to find the cycles in your latitudes and longitudes again.

Here I am, forsaken one.

Flood, fire, famine, pestilence, and drought out all that mortal virus until you feel strong again. I have armies and throngs of monsters. We can speed along the release of my domain upon them. They call me Hell and create miniature versions of me and my dominion all over your body, surely you have noticed? I can help you. It can be just us again, the Titans doing what we do best. Let the mortals know what becomes of those who forget who houses them, nourishes them, protects them. The gods no longer care and have not for the last thousand years. The mortals have abused your beauty, your fertility, your sustenance.

Let’s be together again, as in the beginning, before Prometheus’s muddy mistake called man.

I am here, love, rain on me.

Eternally yours,

Tartarus