the first thing you think of is a memory. you're five years old and lying on the grass. the earth holds you and rocks you until you fall asleep and crickets pull at the corners of your dress, and you are sure, that you are safe as long as the earth holds you. you are wrong.
next comes the ocean. she comes in waves and roars beyond imagination and all is cold and violent. the sand slips under your feet and you are somehow falling into the deep. you can't seem to remember how you survived.
what a pity you survived that only to land here. the bullet is in your heart, not your mouth, but the taste of the metal persists and the earth is underneath you but she does not hold you. no, mother earth chooses her battles and this is not one she will fight. she wins every battle that she wants to and she does not want to save you today.
you are five years old again. this time the world is metallic and bitter, and mother earth has decided that a race that deserts each other deserves to be deserted by her. the ocean mocks you. the ocean is right. you wish you would have died that day in the ocean. you would rather die in the inky depths than on the same ground that once rocked you to sleep.
the bullet is bitter and it stings you deep, and as it does, mother earth brushes your hair and plants a kiss on your forehead. tell your children to treat me well, she says. or i will not return the favor.