Some days I look around
at this exquisitely unique planet—
this shimmering blue bead suspended in
what so many dismiss as “outer space,”
as if the cosmos were nothingness—
and I wonder how it came to be overrun
by control freaks bent on damaging
everyone (fellow humans, creatures
of all stripes, the very environment itself—
including the air required for life to continue)
for pieces of paper
they’ve convinced themselves
are worth more than life.

Dollar bills as destiny.
Old-growth forests cut for profit.
Oceans treated as garbage dumps.
People stacked like resources
on their sad little ledgers.
Everything sacred
reduced to a spreadsheet.

And I think,
What am I DOING here?
How did I end up
on this strange orb?

Because sometimes it feels like a mismatch—
me with my open heart,
my instincts tuned to wonder,
my body listening for the hum beneath things
while the world drowns itself
in noise and conquest.

I watch these greedy others tear at the Earth,
building empires on sand,
mistaking control for safety,
greed for success,
excess for abundance—
and I ache with the absurdity of it all.

And still—
the planet remains impossibly beautiful.
A tidepool flashing with galaxies
on the micro scale.
A mountain breathing out
the soft volcanic ash of its making—
the ancient dust of fire and sea.
A mango tree dropping sweetness
into the open palms
of anyone passing by.

How is it
that the Earth hasn’t forgotten who she is?
How has she not given up on us?

Maybe that’s why I’m here—
not to fix the madness,
but to remember what is still holy.
To say:

Look.
This is worth loving.
This is worth protecting.

To hold open the doorway
for anyone who has forgotten
how to feel.

Maybe I’m here
to keep asking the real question
out loud, to no one in particular—
until someone else hears it
echo in their bones:

What are we doing
on this strange,
heartbreaking,
breathtaking planet—
and who might we become
if we finally woke up
to the miracle beneath our feet?

Halaula monstera ~ bj 2019