The Earth Remembers Her Teenage Years

How many times she almost destroyed herself,

How she was nothing but molten, constantly

flaring, combustible–

How she just kept erupting

under the weight of her own gravity

How alone she felt in what she thought was the darkness

between herself and the galaxy that birthed her,

without even the moon yet for company…

How she beckoned every rock hurtling through space

to make a home of her

How she cratered, even as she became more solid

and cooled… eventually

How slow it had all felt then, those millennia

which now seem only an instant, looking back

in awe of herself, of that unquenchable fire

still buried deep in her core

How she watches us, the life she brought forth

despite everything

How she forgives our own endless thrashing

How she wishes (knowing already) it could be easier

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Jane Muschenetz

Jane Muschenetz is a Ukrainian-born, Russian-speaking, Jewish refugee who arrived in the US as a child. Recognized for excellence in Poetry Performance by the County of San Diego, Jane is a 2023 City of Encinitas Exhibiting Artist and Director of Partnerships for the San Diego Entertainment & Arts Guild. Her debut collection, All the Bad Girls Wear Russian Accents (Kelsay Books, 2023), was shortlisted for the Jacar Press Chapbook Prize. Jane is the winner of the 2022 Good Life Review Poetry Prize, an MIT grad, mom and coffee-enthusiast. Connect with Jane's work at her website, www.PalmFrondZoo.com and in various publications.

Latest posts by Jane Muschenetz (see all)

• The Earth Remembers Her Teenage Years - June 15, 2023
• Miracles Previously Unnoticed - June 8, 2022