Inklings 2023

EARTH CHILD Lael Sanders ’26 Thunder roiled within her heartbeat. Lightning struck through her eyes. She was life. She was love. She was existence itself. Mother Gaia’s favorite child, who knew the world and harbored no fear towards it. She was akin to Hercules beetles and sprawling sycamores, sister to humpback whales and spores of fungus alike. Through her breath spoke the rainclouds, in an enthrallingly melodic tone. Her fear quickened the rabbit and sharpened the blade. Her sadness, coating the skies and fueling the fog. Her anger wrangled the giants and exploded the volcanoes. Her joy bloomed the flowers and caressed the bees. Her bees, her flowers, her volcanoes, her giants, her fog, her skies, her rabbit, her blade. It was all hers, and she was all its. They lived in tandem, a fitting limbo between thousands of lives. She was the Earth, and the Earth was her. She smiled, and the sunrise smiled back. She shivered, and the earth quaked in response. And when she cried, the rain cried with her. 15