Big Nature Love – Poetry by Markus Hamence, April 2026

It came in sideways and kinda uninvited,
like a verse that missed the page
with dust in its lungs,
and a truth scraped raw from another age.

This time there’s no choir, not even a spotlight,
just a cracked voice in the dark.
Singin’ through the splinters,
leavin’ fire in the leathered bark.

Big Nature Love,
it don’t ask where you’ve been. It doesn’t care.
It drags you through the awkward silence,
then calls it your skin.

There’s a halo hangin’ crooked over you,
on a nail in the sky.
And there’s a wind that a keeps confessin’
but forgets how to lie.

I saw a river break its promise,
just to keep movin’ on.
No guilt, no glory, no award,
just a low, endless entrancing song that we wish to belong.

And the mountains –
hey, they ain’t holy, they’re just tired.
They’re holdin’ up heaven, that we have worshipped and abused,
like they never have ever retired.

Big Nature Love,
it’s a bruise and a grace.
It’s the dirt on your hands, the moments of disgrace,
and it’s the etched lines on your face.

You can run with your questions, even from your truth.
You can drink down the doubt,
but it’s already in you,
workin’ its way out.

There’s a storm in your chest,
but it ain’t here to stay.
It’s just shakin’ the cages,
so the wild can find it’s way.

I laid down my promenant pride,
in the long, open expansive field,
and the earth didn’t even answer –
but it didn’t conceal.

Just a pulse in the ground,
like a secret too deep,
and a blasted damn rhythm that follows you,
even in your sleep.

But, Big Nature Love,
there’s no beginning and no end.
It don’t break you apart,
it just bends you again.

And somewhere between
what you lose and what you find with what’s left,
it writes its name,
in your very breath.

And that’s Big Nature Love.

Image Credit: Leonardo Hiraga