You Too are a Thing of the Earth

Other, Spiritual

This manuscript is a selection of poetry written over the past three years of living off the land. It is a spiritual dive and a revolutionary call. It details the struggles of humanity as well as our great and profound capabilities, our relationship to land and nature, the divine powers of menstruation, and how to move to a place beyond the ills of society and learn to love again. It is written humbly, simply and with wisdom. It is now 82 pages (~8,888 words).


Bread and Branches

Bread, properly proofed and leavened,

Rises of its own accord.

The bare branches’ buds,

No matter how warm the winter thaw may be,

Only break forth upon spring.

And you,

You beautiful creature,

Heavily weighted by that oversized mind:

Remember, you too are a thing of the Earth.

You are always on time. 







Sea Walls at Full Moon

The sea returns to itself in endless white-capped mountains,

A forced collision off the sea walls of humanity.

My body bleeds red with a monthly mooning.

The way the salt sweeps up the amber droplets,

Swimming them out to a vanishing point,

Feels like both hope and warning.

The tides will keep churning and rising

But with or without us?

That all depends upon the destruction of our walls.

“Let us be moons again”

“Please,” I whisper,

My body flowing as the sea rocks.








Many Lives

Last night I lived in a mycelium mansion.

The soil saturated the walls

Of my skin

And moss stood as a witness 

To my bacterial breathing of being.

Its funny we have come to question

The validity of our lives lived before

And the many we may live after.

In the blueness of you

The way your soil-scratched fingers

Melt the saltiness of separateness

To the salivating sweetness of our lips:

I know.

This mycelium mansion is a place we have lived before.











You climbed to the top of the rock mountain 

That was held, wedged

Between the tall pines, fragrant of youth.

You smoked weed, giggling with your best friend

Hidden in the wood wall at the farm

Behind the barred-window school.

You grew a white root 

Thick and spidery 

Through the dark riches

Of your hometown soil.

And now the winds of chaos blow

And she is gone, my best friend.

A car wrecked among the Oregon pines of adulthood

And a young boy with veins pumped through with Suboxone

Just trying to make it though 

Like all the youth of this god-damn country. 

Now the winds of chaos blow

Toppling over those who grew obsessed 

With leaves and beauty, papery things,

And the thinness of the dollar

And forgot

The  root to which they will all return.  



About the Author

Author Name: Deirdre Haren

Deirdre Haren is a farmer, seed-saver, mystic,  tantric yogi, surfer, and writer from Ireland.  She studied and worked in chemistry and environmental science before her spiritual studies  in Dublin and India beckoned her towards writing as the more natural way of expressing the truths of the world. She hopes that her poems will inspire others to live lives more deeply connected to the great whole we are all a part of and break free from the chains of capitalist society. She now lives in mid-coast Maine and homesteads on the land herself and six other friends share.

Phone: (516)582-6580

Mailing Address:

1275 Wagner Bridge Road, Waldoboro, ME 04572, USA