I Heard Mother Groaning

“The other morning, on the acreage of my northern New Mexico home, I pressed my ear into the dirt and heard Mother groaning. The same groan I once heard in the city—the helicopters, the warnings, the fear—was humming here beneath piñons and quiet skies. With my face to the earth, I realized the land has been mourning all along. And somewhere in that hum, I could hear Jesus drawing in the dirt again, inviting us to lay down our stones so those who have been targeted and exhausted might finally be free.”