The love of this earth we are part of may be innate to humans, but that makes it even more grievous when other loves squeeze out from our hearts that elemental love.

"Gentle Now, Don't Add to the Heartache" ends as a lament and even more a lament for the lack of a lament. If we allow it to, this poem can make our heart ache, reminding us of what we have lost. Perhaps in remembering how we used to love and see this earth, we might find our way to love it deeply again.

Gentle Now, Don't Add to Heartache
by Juliana Spahr

I.
We come into the world.

We come into the world and there it is.

The sun is there.

The brown of the river leading to the blue and the brown of the
 ocean is there.

Salmon and eels are there moving between the brown and the brown
 and the blue.

The green of the land is there.

Elders and youngers are there.

Fighting and possibility and love are there.

And we begin to breathe.

We come into the world and there it is.

We come into the world without and we breathe it in.

We come into the world.

We come into the world and we too begin to move between the
 brown and the blue and the green of it.

II.
We came into the world at the edge of a stream.

The stream had no name but it began from a spring and flowed
 down a hill into the Scioto that then flowed into the Ohio that
 then flowed into the Mississippi that then flowed into the Gulf
 of Mexico.

The stream was a part of us and we were a part of the stream and
 we were thus part of the rivers and thus part of the gulfs and
 the oceans.

And we began to learn the stream.

We looked under stones for the caddisfly larvae and its adhesive.

We counted the creek chub and we counted the slenderhead darter.

We learned to recognize the large, upright, dense, candle-like
 clusters of yellowish flowers at the branch ends of the
 horsechestnut and we appreciated the feathery gracefulness
 of the drooping, but upturning, branchlets of the larch.

We mimicked the catlike meow, the soft quirrt or kwut, and the
 louder, grating ratchet calls of the gray catbird.

We put our heads together.

We put our heads together with all these things, with the caddisfly
 larva, with the creek chub and the slenderhead darter, with
 the horsechestnut and the larch, with the gray catbird.

We put our heads together on a narrow pillow, on a stone, on a
 narrow stone pillow, and we talked to each other all day long
 because we loved.

We loved the stream.

And we were of the stream.

And we couldn’t help this love because we arrived at the bank of the
 stream and began breathing and the stream was various and
 full of information and it changed our bodies with its rotten
 with its cold with its clean with its mucky with fallen leaves
 with its things that bite the edges of the skin with its leaves
 with its sand and dirt with its pungent at moments with its
 dry and prickly with its warmth with its mushy and moist
 with its hard flat stones on the bottom with its horizon lines
 of gently rolling hills with its darkness with its dappled light
 with its cicadas buzz with its trills of birds.

III.
This is where we learned love and where we learned depth and where
 we learned layers and where we learned connections between
 layers.

We learned and we loved the black sandshell, the ash, the american
 bittern, the harelip sucker, the yellow bullhead, the beech,
 the great blue heron, the dobsonfly larva, the water penny
 larva, the birch, the redhead, the white catspaw, the elephant
 ear, the buckeye, the king eider, the river darter, the sauger,
 the burning bush, the common merganser, the limpet, the
 mayfly nymph, the cedar, the turkey vulture, the spectacle
 case, the flat floater, the cherry, the red tailed hawk, the
 longnose gar, the brook trout, the chestnut, the killdeer,
 the river snail, the giant floater, the chokeberry, gray catbird,
 the rabbitsfoot, the slenderhead darter, the crabapple, the
 american robin, the creek chub, the stonefly nymph,
 the dogwood, the warbling vireo, the sow bug, the elktoe,
 the elm, the marsh wren, the monkeyface, the central
 mudminnow, the fir, the gray-cheeked thrush, the white bass,
 the predaceous diving beetle, the hawthorn, the scud, the
 salamander mussel, the hazelnut, the warbler, the mapleleaf,
 the american eel, the hemlock, the speckled chub, the whirligig
 beetle larva, the hickory, the sparrow, the caddisfly larva,
 the fluted shell, the horse chestnut, the wartyback, the white
 heelsplitter, the larch, the pine grosbeak, the brook stickleback,
 the river redhorse, the locust, the ebonyshelf, the giant water
 bug, the maple, the eastern phoebe, the white sucker, the creek
 heelsplitter, the mulberry, the crane fly larva, the mountain
 madtom, the oak, the bank swallow, the wabash pigtoe, the
 damselfly larva, the pine, the stonecat, the kidneyshell,
 the plum, the midge larva, the eastern sand darter, the rose,
 the purple wartyback, the narrow-winged damselfly, the
 spruce, the pirate perch, the threehorn wartyback, the sumac,
 the black fly larva, the redside dace, the tree-of-heaven, the
 orange-foot pimpleback, the dragonfly larva, the walnut,
 the gold fish, the butterfly, the striped fly larva, the willow,
 the freshwater drum, the ohio pigtoe, the warmouth, the
 mayfly nymph, the clubshell.

And this was just the beginning of the list.

Our hearts took on many things.

Our hearts took on new shapes, new shapes every day as we went
 to the stream every day.

Our hearts took on the shape of well-defined riffles and pools, clean
 substrates, woody debris, meandering channels, floodplains,
 and mature streamside forests.

Our hearts took on the shape of the stream and became riffled and
 calmed and muddy and clean and flooded and shrunken dry.

Our hearts took on the shape of whirligigs swirling across the water.

We shaped our hearts into the sycamore trees along the side of the
 stream and we let into our hearts the long pendulous
 polygamous racemes of its small green flowers, the
 first-formed male flowers with no pistil and then the later
 arriving hairy ovary with its two curved stigmas.

We let ourselves love the one day of the adult life of the mayfly as
 it swarms, mates in flight, and dies all without eating.

And we shaped our hearts into the water willow and into the eggs
 spawned in the water willow.

Our hearts took on the brilliant blues, reds, and oranges of breeding
 male rainbow darter and our hearts swam to the female
 rainbow darter and we poked her side with our snout as she
 buried herself under the gravel and we laid upon her as she
 vibrated.

We let leaves and algae into our hearts and then we let the mollusks
 and the insects and we let the midge larvae into our heart
 and then the stonefly nymph and then a minnow came into
 our heart and with it a bass and then we let the blue heron fly
 in, the raccoon amble by, the snapping turtle and the
 watersnake also.

We immersed ourselves in the shallow stream. We lied down on the
 rocks on our narrow pillow stone and let the water pass over us
 and our heart was bathed in glochida and other things that
 attach to the flesh.

And as we did this we sang.

We sang gentle now.

Gentle now clubshell,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now warmouth, mayfly nymph,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now willow, freshwater drum, ohio pigtoe,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now walnut, gold fish, butterfly, striped fly larva,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now black fly larva, redside dace, tree-of-heaven, orange-foot
 pimpleback, dragonfly larva,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now purple wartyback, narrow-winged damselfly, spruce,
 pirate perch, threehorn wartyback, sumac,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now pine, stonecat, kidneyshell, plum, midge larva, eastern
 sand darter, rose,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now creek heelsplitter, mulberry, crane fly larva, mountain
 madtom, oak, bank swallow, wabash pigtoe, damselfly larva,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now pine grosbeak, brook stickleback, river redhorse, locust,
 ebonyshelf, giant water bug, maple, eastern phoebe, white
 sucker,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now whirligig beetle larva, hickory, sparrow, caddisfly larva,
 fluted shell, horse chestnut, wartyback, white heelsplitter,
 larch,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now white bass, predaceous diving beetle, hawthorn, scud,
 salamander mussel, hazelnut, warbler, mapleleaf, american
 eel, hemlock, speckled chub,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now stonefly nymph, dogwood, warbling vireo, sow bug,
 elktoe, elm, marsh wren, monkeyface, central mudminnow, fir,
 gray-cheeked thrush,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now longnose gar, brook trout, chestnut, killdeer, river snail,
 giant floater, chokeberry, gray catbird, rabbitsfoot,
 slenderhead darter, crabapple, american robin, creek chub,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now king eider, river darter, sauger, burning bush, common
 merganser, limpet, mayfly nymph, cedar, turkey vulture,
 spectacle case, flat floater, cherry, red tailed hawk,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now black sandshell, ash, american bittern, harelip sucker,
 yellow bullhead, beech, great blue heron, dobsonfly larva,
 water penny larva, birch, redhead, white catspaw, elephant
 ear, buckeye,

don’t add to heartache.

Gentle now, we sang,

Circle our heart in rapture, in love-ache. Circle our heart.

IV.
It was not all long lines of connection and utopia.

It was a brackish stream and it went through the field beside our
 house.

But we let into our hearts the brackish parts of it also.

Some of it knowingly.

We let in soda cans and we let in cigarette butts and we let in pink
 tampon applicators and we let in six pack of beer connectors
 and we let in various other pieces of plastic that would travel
 through the stream.

And some of it unknowingly.

We let the runoff from agriculture, surface mines, forestry, home
 wastewater treatment systems, construction sites, urban yards,
 and roadways into our hearts.

We let chloride, magnesium, sulfate, manganese, iron, nitrite/nitrate,
 aluminum, suspended solids, zinc, phosphorus, fertilizers,
 animal wastes, oil, grease, dioxins, heavy metals and lead go
 through our skin and into our tissues.

We were born at the beginning of these things, at the time of
 chemicals combining, at the time of stream run off.

These things were a part of us and would become more a part of us
 but we did not know it yet
.

Still we noticed enough to sing a lament.

To sing in lament for whoever lost her elephant ear lost her mountain
 madtom

and whoever lost her butterfly lost her harelip sucker

and whoever lost her white catspaw lost her rabbitsfoot

and whoever lost her monkeyface lost her speckled chub

and whoever lost her wartyback lost her ebonyshell

and whoever lost her pirate perch lost her ohio pigtoe lost her
 clubshell.

V.
What I did not know as I sang the lament of what was becoming lost
 and what was already lost was how this loss would happen.

I did not know that I would turn from the stream to each other.

I did not know I would turn to each other.

That I would turn to each other to admire the softness of each other’s
 breast, the folds of each other’s elbows, the brightness of each
 other’s eyes, the smoothness of each other’s hair, the evenness
 of each other’s teeth, the firm blush of each other’s lips, the
 firm softness of each other’s breasts, the fuzz of each other’s
 down, the rich, ripe pungency of each other’s smell, all of it,
 each other’s cheeks, legs, neck, roof of mouth, webbing
 between the fingers, tips of nails and also cuticles, hair on toes,
 whorls on fingers, skin discolorations.

I turned to each other.

Ensnared, bewildered, I turned to each other and from the stream.

I turned to each other and I began to work for the chemical factory
 and I began to work for the paper mill and I began to work for
 the atomic waste disposal plant and I began to work at keeping
 men in jail.

I turned to each other.

I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
 harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface,
 speckled chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio
 pigtoe, clubshell.

I replaced what I knew of the stream with Lifestream Total
 Cholesterol Test Packets, with Snuggle Emerald Stream Fabric
 Softener Dryer Sheets, with Tisserand Aromatherapy Aroma-
 Stream Cartridges, with Filter Stream Dust Tamer, and
 Streamzap PC Remote Control, Acid Stream Launcher, and
 Viral Data Stream.

I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
 harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface,
 speckled chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio
 pigtoe, clubshell.

I put a Streamline Tilt Mirror in my shower and I kept a crystal
 Serenity Sphere with a Winter Stream view on my dresser.

I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
 harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface,
 speckled chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio
 pigtoe, clubshell.

I bought a Gulf Stream Blue Polyester Boat Cover for my 14-16 Foot
 V-Hull Fishing boats with beam widths up to sixty-eight feet
 and I talked about value stream management with men in
 suits over a desk.

I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface,
speckled chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio
pigtoe, clubshell.

I just turned to each other and the body parts of the other suddenly
glowed with the beauty and detail that I had found in the
stream.

I put my head together on a narrow pillow and talked with each
other all night long.

And I did not sing.

I did not sing otototoi; dark, all merged together, oi.

I did not sing groaning wounds.

I did not sing otototoi; dark, all merged together, oi.

I did not sing groaning wounds.

I did not sing o wo, wo, wo!

I did not sing I see, I see.

I did not sing wo, wo!

This is a painful poem; the grief for our broken relationship with the earth we loved is palpable. It traces our movement in sections: our birth into this world, our building of relationship with it, our deepening love, our increasing indifference, and finally, our betrayal and loss of relationship. The poem speaks of both the physical harm and the emotional harm caused as this separation becomes a chasm.

In the center of the poem, reminiscent of Adam naming the animals in Genesis, the poet gives us a lengthy list of the names of the stream's inhabitants and neighbors, reminding us that these particulars are important. The naming demonstrates not just a general affection of "nature," but a specific knowledge and love toward each member of it. It takes curiosity to learn this many names—a curiosity and interest in something outside of the human realm.

The poem describes our individual and corporate turn away from the natural world and our fixation on the just-human world, leading to cascading losses as our love for the world is replaced by love for human products and byproducts. The move from "we" to "I" in the poem suggests the final break from the earth community as the individual becomes fixated on self, the just-human, rather than the whole community of creation. So deep is the disconnection between humanity and the natural world that eventually we do not even grieve the loss, do not even see it anymore.

Perhaps to heal our relationship with the earth, we first need to look at the wound and mourn it. Perhaps we need to sing "wo, wo!"

Reflection Questions: Do you remember a time when you felt deeply at home in the natural world? Do you ever allow yourself to mourn the rift between the human and nonhuman elements of creation?

Louise

You can contact me directly at info@circlewood.online.